The Late General Hughes
by claudius
Summary: Envy wants to harm Elysia. No Alchemist will stand in his way. But Vampires, a Pylean, Witches, the Key, and Cordelia Chase definitely will!
1. Chapter 1

Prologue: There were these two vampires in a tavern…

By Claudius

* * *

It was a clear sky that night of 1915. On a block at Central City, two uniformed figures ran through its dark and empty streets. Both shared the action of retreating. Only one thought about escape. None realized they were being watched.

And what a fascinating watch for this watcher, a figure hidden in the shadows! Their movements were very intriguing; he detected the desperation and fear marking the steps of one of them, the man. The other, a female, lacked those valuable parts of weak humanity. She was hiding something, waiting to show it to her partner. Such deception! It brought a grin to the watcher's lips. He always liked the hunt.

* * *

The bartender had placed the third glass of liquor to the customer. So far, there was no payment given, or demanded. The barkeeper said nothing, and he hoped that silence granted him safety. Never did he fear a response from anyone than he did with _this_ customer. There was an inhuman way about him (the fact that he cast no reflection on the window was somehow least in his suspicions). Fear of a wrathful response kept him from notifying anyone.

Perhaps the keeper might feel better if he knew the customer's present thoughts were nothing predatory (well, for the moment). He was too enveloped by the liquor. He loved being drunk. He would drink when he was happy, when he was killing people, when he was refreshing his girl. And when he was sad.

And he was sad now. Sad, sad, bloody sad. He couldn't help ranting that word a lot. That could mean he was really out of it. But the influence didn't help this time. The amount of alcohol that filled his mouth, stomach, and brain did not make the pain go away. He was without his beloved. Such loss quickly turned to hatred. It was that bitch's fault. No, it was the bitch's _sire's_ fault. His brain affected by the booze, the drinker nevertheless could still register thought. It all started with jealousy, back home. Not this weird place, but where he really came from.

Anyway, it was in that bloody colonial nation-wannabe called America. The year was 1919. He was so tired of his beloved's sudden interest in her bullocksy sire. The bitch was now always talking about him, every time he killed someone with her, every time he got her presents both living and not, and when they made love. Feh! His brain blanked out from these nags, submitting to his maddened heart. That heart demanded action.

What could he do? Kill the sire? Very fun, but the last thing he wanted was to hear her add another series of comparisons of the martyr. Feck that one out. He then got his epiphany: Get his girl back by sending the strutting bastard somewhere he couldn't come back. So he got some sorcerer to do the job. Kidnapping the sire was easy (the sod appeared to be a shadow of his former self). He thought the ritual would be elementary as well. Sure enough, things not only ended up uneasy, it went to bloody hell. He made the mistake of personally seeing the wanker off in entry. Got pulled through the dimensional portal with him. Next thing he knew, _both_ of them were somewhere they couldn't come back from.

One nasty fight later, he and the bastard went their separate ways. What a painful situation he was in! He had his ideas to fill the pain, climaxing with a tavern for some beer. Which brought him here. Didn't work. Maybe he should kill the barkeeper (or the barkeepers, if his intoxicated eyes were being true).

The door opened. "Hello!' said the voice of a very, very smug bullock.

"Oh feck off!" The drinker flung the mug at his target.

The visitor grabbed the projectile with ease. "Can't do that," he made his refusal. His voice sounded like cruel madness hiding under the façade of calm kindness. This visitor leapt to the seat next to him.

The irritated customer turned reluctantly to his new bar mate. "What's with the grin, Angelus?"

"I've already done it." Angelus chuckled. He glared at the inhabitants of this tavern, his eyes gleamed impatience; he couldn't wait to see the carnage he would do to this place. "I was walking around the street, looking for someone worthy of my attention. I found two people…running for dear life." His lips snickered wickedly. "At least one of them was. Crossing some rooftops, I followed them to their destination, a booth."

"How original," the drunk customer raised his glass in mock celebration.

"I'm not finished yet, William," snapped Angelus. He loathed interruptions.

"Spike," corrected the drunkard.

Angelus ignored the correction with his continued story. "Suddenly, the guy slashed his female companion's throat. Expecting some fun out of this moment, I was disappointed to find the bitch wasn't dead." Disappointment was an understatement by the rage seeping from his gentleman mask. "Why? The woman was some shape-shifting demon. The human fool tried to fight back, but then the demon turned into another woman with a gun. The fool paused. _Bang!_" He cheered the sound word.

"Nice reenactment," Spike moaned. "So what does this all hafta do with you??"

Again Angelus' smile fell. "I said…_wait!_" he growled at this second guess. He swung back to his smug face. "After the demon left, I came to the victim. I saw a picture on the ground. A colored photograph. It showed his family; him, slutty wife and little shit-brat all smiling like idiots. Boy, what that demon did, taking the form of the corpse-to-be's wife." A brow of envy joined in Angelus' respect for the killer. "That's when I got an idea."

Spike drank some more. Angelus was ever the perfectionist. Couldn't he just kill and enjoy without acting like some fecking artist? No, the prancing git wanted to pretend he was something above a demon.

"I was hospitable to the poor man, allowing him to live a little longer." Angelus' mouth remained an arch of delight. _Hospitality_, in his words, meant that the victim's final minutes were probably the most painful. Death would be delayed for the sake of agony. Angelus had skill…_prolonging_ the life of the dying. "Sure, this demon's way of killing a guy by taking the form of his beloved wife is great, but it lacked something. Comeuppance." His compassionate words lacked conviction. "The _evil_ wife had to pay for this betrayal of their love."

Then Angelus exposed his wrist. It had a fresh wound.

A feeling of ice covered Spike's insides. It excited him. "You didn't…"

"Drusilla is getting a brother." Angelus' mouth opened with laughter. "I can imagine what's going to happen: after rising from the grave, father will come home to the family that missed him. They'll be so happy…" Angelus did not continue; his expression was enough to reveal the aftermath of this prediction. All the devils portrayed in medieval paintings couldn't surpass the cruel, gleeful features of _this_ devil's face.

Showoff, Spike thought. "So 'granddad', what's the name o' my new favorite 'uncle?'"

"Hughes something…He'll get a better name."

"How about Oedipus?"

Angelus laughed at the touché from his companion. He'll hurt Spike later for stealing his thunder. "So, William," he patronized, "what contribution to this new world have you done? Wait, let me guess: sired a drunk bum in an alley."

"Course not!" Spike denied, though the wavering tone of his voice was the real truth.

Angelus laughed. He loved to flaunt his superiority over his fellow vampires, especially this laughable mutt Drusilla found. He was free again. Life, or unlife was pretty fine.

The barkeeper went out of the room. His disappearance struck a chord to his new customers. Now was the perfect time to pay him! It would be a better amusement than killing these drunks. Angelus and Spike arose from their seats. Suddenly, a light enshrouded the both of them. Transforming the surroundings inside and out. There was a gate. It opened; they went through it. It was quick and fast, especially for Angelus.

Two vampires now stood in an environment they had been before. There was a woman before them. "Noicey, noicey t' see y'all bawk." Smiled the witness. In her hand clutched the dead wizard's head, having severed it as soon as the rescue was fulfilled. "Thank you, kuind sir." She kissed the head's cold forehead. She looked to the returned. "Spoik…"

Even in his intoxicated state, Spike could register this beautiful, insane vampire that sired him. That face, those eyes, that body. All his earlier problems were wiped away. He understood now. Drusilla's pining for Angelus was all part of a plan, a quest for him to prove the depth of his love for her. He had won. Spike gave Drusilla a passionate exchange racier than those tame 'moo-vys' with Theda Bara or Francis X. Bushman. They were happy.

Not Angel. Thoughts that were beautiful became layered with revulsion. And the actions…

His legs failed him. In a shaken awareness, Angel grabbed for his pockets. It couldn't be there, his thoughts raced for a possible truth of relief. It all had to be a nightmare. He couldn't have done it again.

He touched the picture. He looked at it. The Hughes Family. The doubt was gone. The defense from true pain shattered. The deluge began.

"What's 'is problem?" Drusilla asked, finding her sire's stricken behavior rather engaging.

"Forget the sod," Spike walked away, pulling his girl to himself. "I know of a beautiful necklace I can give you…and the girl wearing it." A smile changed Drusilla's confused look. She followed her love and his promise. They left the scene, she singing a pretty song in contrast to her creepy step.

Angel was alone now. His thoughts were his companion and torturer. _What have I done?_ It was not the first time he realized that questioning thought. But for the first time, he fought it with denial. His hands desperately attacked the photograph. The picture of the family was squeezed and crushed, its fabric ripped into pieces, until it was nothing. _It had to be nothing. It is nothing. Nothing_…

* * *

To be continued

* * *

I do not own the copyright of _Full Metal Alchemist _(by Hiromu Arakawa), nor do I own the copyright to characters from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _(by Joss Whedon).

I don't know if I'll continue this. The last time I combined an anime with a WB show I barely got passed the first chapter. We'll see (if I do, expect Cordy!). But the least I can do is give a title of what LGH stands for: _The Late General Hughes._


	2. Chapter 2

The Late General Hughes

Chapter 1: Who am I?

By Claudius

* * *

I do not own the copyright of _Full Metal Alchemist_, nor do I own the copyright to characters from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ or_ Angel_. For the FMA readers, the major story is set during episodes 43-44.

* * *

"That's an amazing talent." Maes Hughes forced light into his words. Forgotten was the umpteenth wound to his arm; remembered was the wound to his soul. He had just made lethal attacks against two Homunculus monsters: one he stabbed in the head, the other slashed at the throat. Before this night, he hadn't killed anyone in seven years. Now he's throwing push-knives like crazy! Like riding a bicycle, Hughes humored himself, struggling against this wound. Hopefully he can spare Elysia such experiences when she grew up. That is, if he gets that info to Roy. "I hope you'll forgive me, but I've got a wife and kid waiting for me back home."

The Homunculus arose. Thanks, thought the Lieutenant Colonel. Make me feel even more a killer! Hughes intensely held his push-knife for the next attack. His rhythm suddenly stopped. His eyes no longer saw the form of Maria Ross. This shape-shifting monster had taken another shape. It was another woman, very familiar in frame and voice. Too familiar.

"You're right, Hughes," said the Homunculus morph, brandishing a gun. "Maybe this is a more fitting end."

Hughes was capable of stabbing the Homunculus before it attacked him. But the new form froze him in mind, body, and blood. His emotions screamed, working its will against him. A wall of memories and feelings blocked his actions. All because of this woman before his eyes, aiming a gun at him. He couldn't fight _that_, Hughes quivered at the sight. _Not her!_

And so, Maes Hughes let Gracia shoot him. No. Not Gracia. Hughes realized that fact as the bullet tore through his organs. Gracia was at home with Elysia, worrying about him. She wasn't this _thing_ defacing her image. But this foul impersonator remained implanted to his mind, lingering on as he lost his strength and balance. It lingered as he thought about other things: Roy's promise to himself ("_I'm going to become the Fuhrer, Maes. I'll transform how this whole country runs. It's the only way I can justify taking my next breath."_)

His own promise to help Roy ("_To do that, you're going to need someone who understands you and the system, and supports you from the inside. I'll work under you, stay close to the higher ups, and help push you to the top."_).

Gracia waiting for her husband to return (_"Just…be careful."_).

Elysia asleep in her bed, believing her daddy hated her.

The thoughts ended, Hughes now realized he was on the floor. He didn't feel hitting it. His body was going numb. Blood squirted from his mouth. Still, Hughes tried to keep calm. Time to die? Well, it was borrowed time, right? The cost of Equivalent Exchange: His life would now pay for the joys given to him by his family.

Pretty stupid thinking, huh? Such contentment wore off. Hughes felt his life was incomplete. He didn't want to die! He wanted to love Gracia again, hug Elysia one more time! And he had to tell Roy…tell him…

It was getting hard to think. The end was coming. Hughes' eyes, bereft of glasses, stared into the night. Was this blurry sight supposed to make the approach of the final darkness easier? Suddenly came jolts of pain. Like heat against cold, the blast struck his dying body. The sense of feeling had made a brief comeback. He was being held. Hughes' weak sight couldn't tell his savior by face. His ears picked up a voice. It sounded like his own, but very cold. "I saw what happened. You've got a good ground for divorce, I'm afraid."

Hughes pressed for his remaining motions the shock gave him. Got to tell him. His bloody mouth broke out incoherent words. "Tell…Mustang…Wars…lies…Philosopher Stone…"

"You can tell him yourself." The response sounded optimistic, but very strange. Hughes retreated back to other thoughts. Gracia. Elysia…

Again, a strong shock of senses returned to Hughes' body. More pain. His failing mind attempted to decipher the reason. His blurred vision could only read his benefactor slurping his wounded chest as if it were ice cream. What a time…to get squeamish.

Hughes' head now got lifted by the pull of his hair. He felt a warm something trickling into his lips. It was…blood. But…

The thought was interrupted. All feeling vanished. Then all was nothing. Maes Hughes died.

* * *

The day of Maes Hughes' state funeral happened under a bright blue sky. Only one man thought it was raining. Such a prophecy was fulfilled; a storm did come once the sun had set. It rained upon the cemetery, its wet drops moistening the new grave before the tombstone marked _Maes Hughes 1885-1915._

The softening of the ground might as well be an advantage for the strangest of happenings. The grave pile of dirt shook as if struck by a minor earthquake. The tremor amplified in intensity. The climax was reached: A hand broke out into the air, grabbing with desperation. Then a second hand ripped open from the ground. These grasps upon the dirty earth lurked to further space. And with a greater eruption came out a head. Maes Hughes.

But this man had undergone a change in death. Not of decomposition, for no mold or decay grew on the body. The skin, the eyes, the hair upon his head and jaw remained preserved, but a sinister addition marked the rest of the face. The lime eyes were now golden, the pupils tiny and inhuman. The ascent from the ground led to the loss of glasses. But the thing moved like one lacking poor sight. A new brow hung on its forehead, heavier, curved monstrously to accentuate the animal glare. The cheekbones grew like muscles. Its mouth now bore long fangs; the lips surrounding them quivered with expectation.

The change was not surface alone. There was also a new behavior, and not entirely caused by the trauma of feeling death. To the personality, emotions, and memory that made up Maes Hughes, a new alien feeling invaded and conquered. This dominating influence was a fierce characteristic: cold, cruel, savage. It craved blood. The creature walked slavishly to its fresh instincts. It refused to notice the rain, soiling the blue military uniform. The new bands commemorating Hughes' new rank as Brigadier General was something unknown to this creature's knowledge. Also ignored was its grave of escape, the muddy hole being filled and erased by the pouring rain. Only bloodlust held this creature's attention.

Walking unstopped, the beast came to metal bars blocking its way. The creature jumped over it. That this feat was made by prowess incapable of any normal human was also not a pressing thought right now. Doing it just felt right. Reaching the road, the creature suddenly shrugged. Something screamed in its unprotected sensitive ears. Its eyes located a growing bright light. Shock and confusion were its reactions. A strong force thrust the creature away. The creature hit the ground. Lying on the wet floor, pain was the following feeling. Rage became next. Its nose smelled blood. The scent got closer, as a voice sounded.

"Are you alright?"

The creature recognized the sound. Human. Full of blood.

In seconds, the creature was upon the human. Hands pressed upon the prey's neck, portraying a delicious attraction for the creature. He bore his fangs. His animal passion rising with one idea: _Kill_…

* * *

With such an aftermath to the body, what can one say about what happened to the spirit? The following story might be a good description of what happened, but it is so inferior to the real experience. In an illuminated environment, Maes Hughes felt everything in the bright light. He saw many things. His birth. His childhood. His education. His job. Friends. Roy. Family. Dad. Gracia. Elysia. The lives he helped. The lives he ended. Love. Fatherhood. Death. All was carefully recollected and experienced, but in a quick and accelerated fashion. He knew his present. He saw his body in a coffin. The sight of his corpse didn't trouble him. His physical form was an old shell, decayed and dead. His new existence was better, pure, immortal. All regret faded away. His time was over. Nothing wrong with that: to affirm existence is to let go, and completing his life confirmed it.

With a blink, Hughes saw a train on the countryside. On it were Edward and Alphonse Elric, and Winry Rockbell. In his new form, Maes waved to them. He didn't care if they saw him or not. He would always be with them, as he would be within everyone he loved.

_Goodbye._

And then Hughes walked to a giant black gate appearing to him. Its opening was long awaited. He was at peace. The end.

The peace was corrupted. There came an attack by discomfort. The door remained shut. Rejection. Before the spirit could understand, the darkness swarmed and conquered the light. A great difference had taken shape around him. Dark instead of bright. Restrained rather than free. Dead, not alive.

What did this mean? A new knowledge and awareness conquered this level of being. The existence once known as Maes Hughes thrust into a new form, with thoughts of its own. New thoughts. Terrible thoughts…

* * *

_Kill? _

The creature halted itself. A distant interpretation, almost alien in its appearance, touched its savage wish. The thought merged with a coherent scene. A memory. The image of another man. His bleeding neck. Knife wound. The memory had something endearing. The dying man's living blood seeping from his neck. His death. That sight was something thrilling, interesting…not right. A killing? Yes, the creature thought, it caused that death by slicing the victim's throat open. It was…good…It was wrong. The creature experienced a rebellion to his pleasure. Consciousness was achieved. It killed…_He _killed…murdered a man. For the first time. But the man had to be killed. The man killed. So he killed. No choice…

There came a flash, revealing a new scene by memory. There was another man. No murderer. But he murdered him too...

The creature shook over its fearful prey. The past collided with the present, fighting their different meanings into this monster. Short-term words of thinking developed into longer perspectives. New meanings, true ideas, better insight; these essences tortured his cruel desires like hot pincers. The faces of these dead men materialized in his mind; once shadows, they grew fuller and complete to the creature's attention. He saw them looking, staring, frowning, lurking, glaring, hating…

Its ears broke with screams. The prey was not alone. Shut up! The creature growled in mind, ready to release it vocally. _"Shut up!"_ was the first words of this new life. His hungry eyes glared at the oncoming presence. It was a mother and child. The creature was delighted. More prey. Eat them and forget…

The savage glare shattered. This mother and child resembled another pair. _Snap!_ The moment of recognition, the sudden memory of the dead men, the conscientious thoughts were all there. All these tricks of the mind swarmed together for a final attack. The onslaught of emotion and thought enveloped the creature, swallowing him whole. Was his thirst worth enduring this pain? The creature suddenly realized that action. _His thirst?_ The status of what that idea meant came strong, reaching awareness. It came building, growing, into a behemoth.

The creature shirked from it. He will ignore it. He will ignore it. He was better now. He didn't care! He didn't fucking care!

His mind peeked at the behemoth. All denial and ignorance shattered.

* * *

Maes Hughes snapped open his eyes in the darkness. He looked around the room to divide the reality and the dream. The separation did little help. What a nightmare! Peaceful dreams were rare in his life now. Or, he corrected, whatever this joke of his life was now. He was remembering that incident again, the only memory in this unknown blank of an existence.

Hughes got out of the bed, looking across the small room. Months ago, he would expect the brightness of morning to get him up (or Elysia). Fat chance for that now! He now lived in a small room, the type where a few steps measured the room with danger of stepping on vermin. Still, it was cheap, and he had a few weeks before the rent could be paid. A yawn later, Hughes turned on the lights. Opening the bright curtains would not be a great idea. He saw nothing on the mirror. The lack of a reflection gave him little understanding of how he looked. He supposed his jaw as clean-shaven, though rubbing his chin did reveal a few stubbles. His hair flowed a little long, colored to a dark brown. The one bang curl had vanished, replaced by long bangs that hung over his eyebrows. An earring embedded his left lobe. Even with the lack of a reflection, Hughes knew the disguise worked; no one recognized him for his old human self. To the public, Brigadier General Maes Hughes was dead.

He sat at a small table. From a bag he took out a small bottle. It contained something he got this night from the Butcher's shop. He poured its black red contents into a glass. Blood was like milk, very sticky and thick. Not to mention delicious. After a drink, he viewed the mess of papers, bearing sketches and theories. For Hughes, it was a habit as un-killable as himself. You can take the man out of the investigations department, but never the investigator out of the man. One piece of paper was a drawing of a tree bearing several branches. Names like 'Juliet Douglas', 'Morph,' and 'Sexy' labeled these branches, among others. All stemmed to one name- 'Fuhrer Bradley.' The meaning of this work brought back an awareness of danger. He dismissed it. No one bothers you when you're dead.

The humor-as-coping-mechanism was acknowledged. It felt like a joke. Still acting like you're human, Maes? His thoughts were a good indication that he was not. Black ideas ran inside his brain. He possessed the thinking that a serial killer would possess. Everyone was prey to him. Anyone he saw or met pressured within him a desire to kill, to eat. Then again, could that be a sign of humanity? He knew of a lot of people who acted that way, and they were alive and normal. But they lacked any insight about the moral nature of their beliefs. Hughes had that in spades. He knew killing a man was wrong. He had experience doing such things before he became this…freak. Those memories haunted him beyond life. So much for resting in peace! Yep, a lot of his thoughts were wrong, fastened with repulsion and guilty remorse. This conscience restrained him from actually doing the things that popped in his head. But was he truly sick of this temptation to be some monster? What if it was the rejection that really bothered him?

Time out on that one, Hughes decided. He had other things to do. He grappled on to that excuse like a life preserver. Under his condition, that was hard to do. He drank more blood. At least he was physically different than psychos. They couldn't do what he could. He was stronger than them, in body, in speed, in senses. He didn't need his glasses anymore. He can heal faster and better. He was beyond humans. Maybe he was superior to the Homunculus!

Or maybe not. Psychos or Homunculus can still walk out in sunlight. Hughes couldn't do that without becoming a hamburger. He was forced him to stay in the shadows now. Forget tanning! Psychos can see their reflections. When Hughes first saw nothing on the mirror, he thought he was a ghost. Furthermore, psychos didn't have this thirst for blood. Sure, he still enjoyed tasting food, but the nourishment was gone. Only blood could do that, and the urge to have it was undeniable.

So what was he then? Not a Homunculus. There was no Oborobus mark on his body. The attempts to discover the identity of this form were on the table as well. Unfortunately, few answers were gained. Research on himself proved as nil as info on the Homunculus. The libraries (the ones that survived or were restored before his untimely end, as well as the ones he could actually enter) gave no idea on what he was. He had to sneak into the places, making his research as discreet as possible. It wasn't always dull, though. On one occasion he played around with the guards, quickly moving from shadow to shadow under the fools' noses. It was fun, until the game turned into some sinister 'cat and mouse' game with deadly consequences on the guards. Hughes quit that game immediately.

Hughes saw everything was now a question. A lot of his exploits in those weeks he barely remembered. Maybe he didn't want to. Trauma. The thought of what truly happened in those days edged to the disturbing. It was not helped by his desire to meddle in such things. Doing that got him killed. Another habit he couldn't break!

Anyway, by the time he got some of his bearings back, more than a month had passed. A few hours ago this night, he overheard talk about Liore. An entire army of Amestrisian soldiers vanished in a red glow (an imagination that was not entirely horrible). It appears the Homunculus have finally gotten their Philosopher Stone! Hughes considered that deduction heavily. Maybe he could have stopped it by telling Roy. Then again, maybe not.

Hughes wondered if the Elric Brothers were there. He missed those boys. This longing for those kids soon fell to more precious people. But he could never see them again. Imagining such a meeting pulsed fear inside him, showing the inevitable image. Their surprise, their shock, his thirst…

With a snap of anger, Hughes flung the glass of blood against the wall. The entire table was upset, with its many papers scattered on the floor. In his hands, this piece of furniture was to be destroyed. But a return of common sense returned the table back to where it was, along with recriminations. "Good job, Maes," he spoke aloud to himself. "Look at you, breaking things like a kid. Elysia's more mature than you." Yeah, he agreed, but can anyone with this affliction do any better? This new life was pulling all sorts of nerves in him. Like it opened all the black parts he usually kept inside himself…most of the time.

Hughes picked up the papers, gathering them together into a pile. That bloody stain on the wall was going to be a harder problem to clean up. It looked like a murder happened here. What a way to explain it to the landlord! Hughes came close to the mark, touching it. The mark was still wet. He dipped the red fingers into his mouth. A taste. Hughes bit hard. His senses returned to frustration. How can he help not being pissed about this change? He once had everything, friends, a family, a job. What did he do to deserve this hell?

("_You spoiled brat!_")

Hughes flinched at this memorable line, the possible reason. But did that justify the punishment?

Maybe.

An attempt at philosophy turned in his thoughts. What a bizarre exception he was! Those weirdo Alchemists wanted life after death. He didn't. The moment he walked out of his house that fateful night, Hughes understood that he would die. The only priorities were that his family was safe and that he was able to get his information to Mustang. Even when he failed at the latter, he accepted the final fate. But things didn't turn out that way. Worse, fate led him to a different direction with this life.

_This life._ How funny it was, Hughes tried a dose of sarcasm. He was alone, now separated from family and friends. Now he craved blood, had psychotic tendencies, and couldn't enjoy a sunny day anymore. He didn't even know what he looked like. "I am a monster!" And what was so wrong with that? He was stronger, better than those weak humans. "Who'd want such their pathetic life? Not me!"

But no victorious laughter followed this declaration. Only desperation. Hughes couldn't stand it one minute more. He had to end it all. There was that curtained window. Open it up and it will be all over. His hands clutched the fabric, squeezing them tightly. Just spread his arms outward…

The arms remained statuesque. His palms began to sting from the light, but they remained attached to the curtain. The only movement of his body was the bending of legs. Downward Hughes knelt into the shadows, his new home. "What a coward I am. Guess I'm still a sane human after all."

Hughes searched for a remedy. He had to get out. Investigators don't do well in cramped rooms.

* * *

An hour later, Hughes was traveling around the city in a car. It was the only possession from an alternate identity. When he was alive, his investigations sometimes had him go undercover to better gain information from the seedier side of the city. Because the knowledge of this guise was his alone, it wasn't dissolved with his death. But new responsibilities as family man and Lieutenant Colonel led to this guise being neglected. The car suffered from that ill use, with a lot of rust. Rather than fixing this problem, the owner added black paint to the windows, save for a small line before the front windshield. In this vehicle, Hughes drove down to the usual lane where he could go blindfolded. He was fully dressed. By coincidence, Gracia had donated his wardrobe to a shelter on the same day he came looking for clothes. He was able to recover much of his clothing, although he could never wear them the old way again. His collar was buttoned, wrapped with a tie. His tails were tucked in, with his coat closed. Black, horn-rimmed glasses covered his eyes.

The car passed by people on the street. Their presence gave him confusion. He had mixed reviews over his new perspective for humanity. Hughes knew he was different, maybe better than them. And the fact they all possessed blood made the food label plainly noted (though he never bit a human being…in memory at least). But he couldn't bring himself to label humans as some inferior insect. Killing an ant was no problem to him. Killing a human was. His conscience made humans too valuable to eat, even though he rarely associated with them anymore.

On the destined block, he saw a figure near the street. Elysia. The child rode her tricycle recklessly on the sidewalk. Hughes parked the car nearby. Through a small crack on the barely opened side window, the driver provided himself a view. A glow shone into his black room. Whether it was from this sunny day, or from the girl, Hughes made no distinction. He gazed somberly at the child. Once upon a time, he treasured that child more than his life. Now? How could he love something so small, so ill-behaved, so…_so completely adorable_? Any negative views toward humanity, already checkered, were even weaker whenever Hughes thought about someone dear to his past self. And he still loved his daughter. What things he could do to her…

Maes cringed with an ill sensation. Every time something positive happened, it led to something that felt right, but was so wrong. He did love Elysia. He would sacrifice his life (again) for her. But a different tone was added to this affection. It was possessive, controlling, sick. Hughes had encountered many cases of abusive fathers who felt their love for children demanded cruelty and perversion. They thought the best way to show this love was to kill their child. With this parallel, Hughes clenched the resolve to stay away even more. But that didn't change the fact that he loved Elysia. His heart (figuratively speaking) wouldn't be this wretched if he didn't.

"Excuse me?"

Maes' ears picked up those female words. He looked back into the crack. Elysia had bumped into a group of three girls and a man. All were dressed in shirts and pants, but Hughes could easily make the distinction of gender. One girl was a child barely fifteen. Next to her was a older, bigger girl. She was not thin, but calling her fat was inaccurate (if really tempting). Her somber face carried intelligence. But the eldest...Hughes' eyes fell on her. This young woman's face and short hair combined to give her a resemblance of a younger, tanner Gracia. That resemblance trembled him. There was a man with them. The discretion of a hat failed to hide this man's long chin, big lips and…scaly green skin?

The pseudo-Gracia charged after Elysia and her tricycle, her friends following. "Forgetting the 'excuse me' part, kiddo?"

Elysia's face grew stauncher. She kicked her tricycle foot pedals. The woman grabbed the steering handles. "I take that as a 'No" right?"

"Cordelia…" said the middle girl

"Leggo, old lady!" Elysia cried.

The words froze this doppelganger, presumably named Cordelia. She was pissed. "Okay, it's Mommie Dearest time, you little…"

"Hold it!" the youngest grabbed her elder's shoulder, even thought she appeared to be agreeing with the child. This girl knelt to Elysia. "It's okay. What's your name, kid?"

But Elysia said nothing. Instead she looked at the small photograph on the axle of her steering handle. The teenager continued with another question. "Is that you and your dad?"

Elysia hung her head. Maes did likewise. As if empathic, his heart tore with his daughter's on the subject.

"Leave me alone!" Elysia screamed. She hit the pedals again. Suddenly, Cordelia collapsed. Grabbing her head, her face and body writhed and contorted in agony. The sight was attractive to Maes' sympathy. He grabbed the door handle. The hand stopped. As he looked out, the woman had stopped writhing. She slowly rose again, clutching her forehead.

The rounder girl woman questioned her. "Was that-"

"Yes," the older woman interrupted with a tired reply. They all looked around, wondering if this scene got any witnesses. They didn't see him.

Elysia charged off her tricycle. Her angry face had changed to a crying expression of sadness. "I'm sorry!"

Hughes grabbed the door handle.

"Oh no, no, no," The youngest apologized nervously. "Cordelia just fell. Clumsiness is her specialty."

And then Gracia came into Hughes' view. She was given his special eye as well. Different images mixed with his mind, along with many mixed emotions. The climax of these memories was Gracia holding a gun. _"You're right, Hughes. Maybe this is a more fitting end." _A grimace cracked upon Hughes' face. Betrayal smoldered inside him. He stamped that memory ruefully. He knew _it_ wasn't really her, but the cruel facts remained. He continued his watch. Elysia had burst into tears, running to her mother. "I didn' mean it, mommy!" She cried hysterically on her mother's stomach. "I didn' mean it..."

The mother believed in her daughter's innocence. Hughes did too. His hand remained affixed to the handle. But all he did was see Gracia trying to find a better understanding through the three girls. "What happened?"

"I fell," this Cordelia mumbled. "I'll be…okay." Quickly, she bent to a position of suffering. Almost on purpose.

"Oh, sorry," The mother spoke kindly, coming toward the ailing. "Come to my house."

"Really? You're so kind!" Cordelia grinned as she stumbled to the woman. Hughes scoffed. The other women could win acting awards for this deception.

Gracia then spotted the man with them. A little apprehension lit her face.

The man took off his hat, revealing horns. "Oh, worry not. It's makeup. I'm in a play."

Gracia calmed in her stare. She and Elysia than returned to the house, with the group following them.

With hesitance, Maes rolled the window back up. Those strangers had become interesting.

* * *

His car parked farther, Hughes saw the group leave his old house. To his good luck, the girls headed toward him. The distance gave their words no protection from his keen ears.

"So what was the premonition?" Spoke the rounder girl.

Cordelia was cool in her answer. "I saw Elysia's daddy. He had a grrr face."

Hughes tensed to that information. _A grrr face?_ Did she mean what he thought she meant? This curiosity had borne fruit. His foot touched the gas pedal steadily. He followed the group. Fortunately, the farther the group left the house, the freer their words became.

"A grrr face?"

"Demon eyes, heavy brow, fangs. What do you think?" Cordelia demanded some real understanding, as if her friends knew but were unable to put two-and-two together.

Hughes became enlightened. They were describing him! The words were fulfilling, yet discomforting. A painfully true description, if his fingers did good judging.

"Calm down," said the youngest. "If Mr. Hughes is a vampire, then we gotta think about his family."

The rest of that sentence fell silent to Hughes ears. Only the label took control of his attention. _Vampyre_. He attempted to absorb more information.

"It's up to us to take care of daddy."

The object of their talk was alert to that plan. A temptation to treat this as some war excited him a lot. "Really?" Hughes spoke with cockiness to the group's intentions.

"Now wait a minute!" The rounder girl urged some thinking over this plan to kick ass. "I see we're missing a few important people, like your boss?"

"_Employee,"_ corrected Cordelia. "And we didn't need him a few times. Or a slayer."

The youngest one stopped in her walk, as if someone knocked her in the stomach.

"It's okay, little britches." The green one consoled with a pat on the back. "Cordelia needs a foot in the mouth."

"Yeah, sorry," Cordelia turned to her hurt victim. "You should see the Manolo Blahniks I swallowed the other day."

The girl swallowed the hurt with a brighter face. "We can still kick ass, for Buffy."

"You're not a slayer, Dawn," the rounder girl urged some warning.

"I was made from one."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Look, you saw that mother and kid. You don't want to see them made into vamp food?"

The rounder girl patted the younger affectionately. "Look, I didn't say I won't help. But we gotta think of the 'careful' part."

"Don't worry, we'll be. Just wait 'till that vamp gets a load of us!" Cordelia expected some cheers, but the gang remained silent. They were silent for a little too long.

Cordelia moved closely to the rounder girl. "So, Tara, can you do that pencil trick like Willow?"

The rounder girl, presumably Tara, shook her head.

"Allow me," said the green-skinned man.

As Hughes continued his voyeur study of their words, he sensed a small sound pierce his ears. It grew shriller, hiding the voices from his hearing. It grew to an irritating crescendo.

And then he saw the group glare straight at him. Suddenly, the dark windows shattered! Broken glass revealed searing light shining upon the driver. The burning pain! Hughes swung the wheel to make a complete U-turn, away from the sun's direction. Reaching an alley away from public view, Hughes patted his singed arm. Agony proved a strong fuel for anger. Any doubt of a wild goose chase was gone. This group knew about him, and what he is.

Okey-dokey, Hughes calmed to the future. He wanted answers. They wanted a fight. Guess who's getting their wish?

* * *

To be continued.

Next time: the past of the group's appearance to this world revealed, and their future with Hughes!


	3. Chapter 3

The Late General Hughes

Chapter 3: Conflict

By Claudius

I don't own any copyright to_ Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel_, or _Fullmetal Alchemist._

* * *

It happened in perfect _force-bend-bright-light-voom! _fashion.At one side was the Magic Shop. At the other was a grassy area of trees. Via magic, the four travelers entered the latter. They stood together, on their feet, unaffected physically, and completely freaked out mentally.

"Anyone got the license of that vortex?" was the first word from this party.

"Not again!" was the second, cried by Cordelia.

"Ditto," said the first speaker, equally anxious. He differed from the rest in gender and species. Right now Lorne was in complete rue. He should have never let Cordelia persuade him to sing at Buffy Summer's funeral.

"Where are we?" said the youngest. Dawn found the cruel realization of their new distance sinking in. As if being 'tombstone girl' wasn't bad enough!

"S-Somewhere," Tara was the calmest. She knew Willow's plan was a bad idea.

Cordelia looked around at their whereabouts. Hopefully no dark hellbeast would come out and enslave them. Too bad Dawn lacked the adventure of being in a different dimension. Because of that, she was the one arousing the attention. "Hello! Anybody or anything there?"

There came some noise from afar. Ignoring Cordelia's warnings- as if she ever listened to her- Dawn ran to the bushy barrier where the noise came from.

Cordelia's conclusion was slow and disappointing. Well, disappointing only because she was proven wrong. For before the travelers' eyes was no medieval town but a somewhat 20th century neighborhood. There were people in vintage garb. Old style cars with tubes on them passed through the street. Very 1950ish, was Cordelia's description of this new world. "1910's is more like it," Dawn pressed her superiority in knowledge.

"Well, at least we're in a civilized place," added Tara. "That's a good thing."

"I guess…" Lorne added a dose of pessimism. "Green-skinned demon, remember?" He pressed his hat and shades upon his horned head. His thoughts were on the defensive, ready a bunch of excuses should someone ask.

Rather than stay at this spot, the four left what was actually a park and walked along the neighborhood. A newspaper from a vendor's stand gave clues of their whereabouts. Terms read were 'Central City,' 'Amestris' and '1915.' None, however, fit for a familiar idea of where they were.

Meanwhile, Tara explained to Lorne, Cordelia, and Dawn the possible cause for their transportation. Part of that cause was by their interruption. "Although Buffy's body was dead, Willow thought that her spirit was somewhere not in our world. That it could be in a different dimension, maybe a parallel reality."

Cordelia was amazed. "Willow's gone pretty far in the magic biz."

"Yeah," Tara's confirmation was not entirely a comfortable one. "So she attempted a spell to locate Buffy's soul. See if she was okay."

"Then Lorne, Dawn, and me entered, blew things, and that's why we're here?" Cordelia asked. Her admission caught Dawn's eye. Cordelia actually playing the blame game on herself? It was the apocalypse…again.

"Too bad she couldn't do it right." Cordelia was never wholly to blame in her own view.

"I tried to convince her." Tara's words dissolved to a whisper toward this impressive young woman.

"Let me guess," Cordelia predicted. "Resolve face."

Tara's sad face gave the proof. That was always Willow's trump card.

"You should have told me about this," Cordelia felt the stung of ignorance. How could the Slayerettes keep this from her? Maybe that was understandable, with the 'time flies' thing. But Angel's own omission of this plan was harder to believe.

"Lay off Tara, Cordy!" Dawn was ever on the defensive for the witchy duo.

Tara attempted to change the priority. "The main thing is we have been transported to this different time and place."

"We kinda know that!" snapped Cordelia.

"Well…uh…don't worry," Tara's assertiveness dwindled more. "We'll get rescued as soon as Willow finds us."

"We're not worrying about that," said Cordelia. "The problem is in the meantime. We're stuck in a different time and place, with no food, money, makeup, hair gel."

"No sea breezes," added Lorne. That scared him more than anything.

"So unless the inhabitants of this world are going to worship me as their queen," Cordelia continued, "we're so in the worry."

Dawn and Tara just stared at Cordelia.

"Long story," was Lorne's explanation.

Cordelia led the group along the neighborhood. "Anyone got any other ideas besides Willow coming to the rescue?"

"Like what?" Dawn talked back. "Click my heels and say 'There's no place like home'? Excuse us for not being idiots, Cordy!"

Cordelia's experience denied Dawn a response to that. Before her guilt of doing such a thing was suspected, Her legs collided with a tricycle.

"Excuse me?" Cordelia awaited the courtesy from the brat. She got no response as the girl wheeled away to the opening of a stone fence. So she beat her attacker to the path. "Forgetting the 'excuse me' part, kiddo?"

The child ignored her completely, kicking her tricycle foot pedals. Cordelia grabbed the steering handles. "I take that as a 'No" right?"

"Cordelia…" Tara winced.

"Leggo, old lady!" The child shouted without a faceoff.

Cordelia smarted from the insult. Sure, she had changed a lot in the three years since she was Queen of Sunnydale High School (before she pulled an Edward VIII for Xander Harris), but there still were some limits. The causes of war had far less reason than this child's motive in pissing off Cordelia Chase. Child or no, the brat would pay the consequences. "Okay, it's Mommie Dearest time, you little…"

"Hold it!" Dawn grabbed the behemoth. Actually, she sympathized with the girl and her resistance to the Sunnydale Bitch. She knelt to the child. "It's okay. What's your name, kid?"

The child still was on the resistant side. Instead she looked at the small photograph on the axle of her steering handle. Dawn took a closer look. The tattered and wrinkled picture showed a man. "Is that you and your dad?"

The child bowed her head lower. Dawn understood the reason, almost mimicking the child's sad expression. Good for her, she thought with a bitter sarcasm. Cordelia calmed down with sympathy and guilt. She wasn't really going to hit the kid or anyt-

As the child screamed, "Leave me alone!" Cordelia suddenly had other problems. Another message from The Powers That Be! As usual, the message came to her mind with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. She collapsed, grabbing her head and face in intense pain.

Tara and Dawn just stood there, witness to their first encounter with Cordelia's visions. This left Lorne to take some action. He knelt to the suffering woman, grabbing her arms so she didn't make her body worse than it already was.

Finally, Cordelia eased from her painful contortions. Tara knelt down. "Was that-"

"Yes," Cordelia interrupted with a tired reply. She shook her head, looking around. Her companions did the same. Fortunately, the neighborhood looked pretty vacant of anyone. As relief was around the bend, the group spotted the child. She looked terrified. The brat had become a sad little girl, crying with tears on her face. "I'm sorry!" She charged off her tricycle, heading pass the stone fence before them.

"Oh no, no, no," Dawn apologized, nervously dancing to the girl. "Cordelia just fell. Clumsiness is her specialty."

And then a woman appeared. It was this woman the child ran toward. She was older than any of the three females, so it was concluded that she might be the mother. It has to be said that such analysis was difficult, considering that all thoughts were stuck on the fact that this woman looked like Cordelia! Even the source of imitation was struck by the resemblance. Okay, Cordelia admitted to herself, she wouldn't have that short hair, and she wouldn't be caught dead wearing that dress! Ugh, maternity clothes had more style…

Anyway, Cordelia calmed her private views. What is important was the child's trouble. And the child clearly showed this by embracing her mother, burying her face into her legs. "I didn' mean it, mommy! I didn' mean it..."

The mother believed in her daughter's innocence. Still, she wanted to see the other side of things. "What happened?"

"I fell," Cordelia mumbled. "I'll be…okay." Quickly, she bent her leg as if she was crippled.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the mother gave a cool respect. Despite the calm demeanor, the mother was kind, coming toward the ailing Cordelia. "Please, come to my house."

"Really? You're so kind!" Cordelia grinned. She than made a few more groans. Dawn and Tara kept straight faces. Their best under such wince-inducing melodramatics.

Lorne than expected the woman's stare. He got it. Time for the old story. Taking off his glasses, he explained. "Oh, worry not. It's makeup for a play."

The mother calmed in her stare. She helped Cordelia to the house. Elysia was at her side. The others followed.

* * *

The four were greeted to a nice living room. The benefactor, Gracia Hughes, treated them to some tea and cakes. She also asked about their identities. As the others spoke their names (Lorne added the surname 'Green'), the ailing Cordelia had memorized her own delivery:

_Hello, I'm Cordelia Chase, ex-Queen of Sunnydale High School, ex-Queen of Pylea, now psychic girl for a detective agency. I went back to my hometown to pay my respects for a dead classmate who saved my life a couple times. However, thanks to said classmate's boyfriend-stealing-lesbian-best friend (not with each other of course), I'm stuck in this bizarre world with a Pylean lounge singer, the lesbo's real girlfriend and the dead classmate's pest-of-the-decade sister._

Once upon a time, Cordelia would have given that thoughtful explanation in words too. But she just stopped at the name part. It was a little sneaky to use her premonition spat to get sympathy, but any desperation concerning her was always for the best. Besides, it benefited Dawn, Tara, and Lorne.

Despite the obvious resemblance, it seemed Mrs. Hughes had her pupils locked on Lorne. "So are you with these girls?"

"No, never saw them in my entire life," Lorne denied. "I was just fooling around, seeing if I give anyone the willies when I saw Cordelia here collapse."

Gracia nodded, astounded by the 'make-up.' "That's a very lavish…costume."

Lorne grinned. "Easier to see it than to wear it, I can tell you that. Took nine hours to get it all on. These red contact lenses are such a pain."

"Very convincing," Gracia applauded with a calm nod. "More convincing than Cordelia's sprained ankle."

Cordelia froze.

"Oh don't worry." Gracia softened. "Although I don't buy that injury, you still look like somebody hit you with a truck. I was a former nurse."

A relieved Cordelia lay back on the sofa, with a handkerchief on her head. "Kudos for the sympathy! You've described my headaches so eloquently!"

While Dawn ate the cakes (didn't like the tea), Tara sipped her cup. "W-We appreciate this," She attempted some levity. "I hope we haven't…"

"Don't think anything of it," Mrs. Hughes was cordial. "I've always enjoyed having guests. At one point my daughter's birth was dependent on them."

Speaking of which, that daughter, Elysia, was upstairs.

"Mrs. Hughes," Dawn looked down at the tray as she spoke. Then she lifted her serious eyes. "I don't see your husband."

Gracia' smile fell. She didn't break down crying or anything, holding things together with a cool face. But that didn't make her insensitive to the apparent loss. She couldn't hide it that well.

"I'm so sorry!" Dawn apologized as best she could. Her mouth should be screwed with a foot to slide in.

"It's all right," Gracia lifted the tray from the table. "You must be new to this city." She went to a wall table, where a picture stood. "Maes enjoyed guests too." She returned to the guests with the picture. "He was a Brigader General of the Fuhrer. He was a great and kind man. An even better husband and father."

Tara looked at the picture nonchalantly. Dawn stared at it. When Cordelia got the picture, her eyes ballooned. Her 'ailment' faded as she sat up on the sofa. The late Mr. Hughes looked like a whiskered, four-eyed, smiling Angel! And there were other similarities...

"You were a lucky woman!" Cordelia masked her real feelings with praise. "Hello…salty goodness." She snickered nervously.

Gracia was solemn to the compliment, though some pink flushed on her cheeks.

"Where's Elysia?" Dawn attempted to change the situation.

"She's in her room." Mr. Hughes spoke sadly. "I'm sorry if my daughter caused anything…" Her apology was overwhelmed by a flood of denials by the guests.

"These days have been especially hard on Elysia. She worshipped her father. She didn't know anything about…death. Maes and I didn't want to traumatize her at her age. We hoped to inform her later."

"Would've changed nothing." Dawn starkly added.

Gracia read Dawn's remark as having other sources besides rudeness.

After a moment of silence, Dawn spoke again. "Can I speak to her?"

Gracia nodded. As soon as Dawn disappeared from the room, she asked the others. "Is there something?"

Tara was solemn. "Her mom just died."

Gracia bowed her head. She understood.

Lorne than made an attempt to kill the dour mood. "Can I have more of your delicious cakes? What's the recipe?"

* * *

It was a heavy trudge up those stairs for Dawn. Hidden under her tough behavior was guilt. One more to the list. It was her fault they were all here. If she stayed at home with Cordelia and Lorne babysitting her, she wouldn't have gone to the Magic Shop and interrupted Willow's spell. Oh well, what's done is done. Such accepting words had been repeated a zillion times in her head. One day she'll believe them.

She was already feeling guilty about the medallion hidden under her shirt. She 'borrowed' it from the Magic shop. It looked nice. Anya said something about it containing a bone shard of some 15th century Alchemist. It was one of a million such pieces. Hopefully it wouldn't be missed, like the other stuff she 'borrowed.'

Dawn knocked at the door. "May I come in?" Silence. The door was unlocked. She opened it. Before her was a room full of toys and dolls and stuffed animals. At the window sat Elysia, gazing outside. In Dawn's view, the colorful display of her surroundings contrasted with Elysia big time.

Dawn sat on the bed. "My! I see you gotta a lot of stuff here! Bet you're the envy of the neighborhood."

"My daddy gave them to me," was Elysia's sad toned answer.

Dawn calmed herself to a normal tone. Like she really needed to be the peppy consoler! Doubt of her own abilities festered. What right did she have doing this? Elysia was going to live the rest of her life without her father. She might even forget him. The fear ricocheted. Would she forget about Mom and Buffy? Did she want to?

"I'm very sorry," Dawn spoke again.

"I didn't mean to!" Elysia exploded.

"It's okay. The…old lady's okay."

"I didn't mean that either."

Dawn took this slip of words. There was a different meaning to this. "Did you do something about your dad?"

"My daddy went away because of me. I was mad at him. I made him go away!"

"_Don't!"_ Dawn shouted in a crazed snap. The child was freaked. Dawn controlled herself. She rolled the knob of her level-11 emotions back to 1. "Don't…blame yourself." She hushed. "It's not your fault." Her words were cool. Only her thoughts showed her rage. _It's all daddy's fault..._

More silence came from Elysia. Any chance of a rapport was now blown. Dawn saw the futility of her comfort. Clearly the wall was too big for her. Make the kid feel better? Forget it. She also needed some consolation. Dawn slowly arose and left the room.

* * *

Dawn's return to the downstairs saw Lorne charming the hostess. By then, Cordelia was pressing for a departure. "We have to be on our way."

Gracia was at the door, ever hospitable. "If you need a place to stay for the night..."

"We'll manage," Cordelia beamed her thankful grin.

Still, Gracia gave them some money for food and board. She looked up the stairs. "Elysia! Say goodbye to these people."

But there was nothing that answered. Gracia was apologetic. "My daughter always said goodbye to anyone who left here." "It's okay," Lorne accepted. "The kid is probably scared of goodbyes nowadays." Gracia nodded in agreement. "I guess so. You're very intuitive." "It's my profession," Lorne smiled. 

With some hand waves, the four left the house for the sidewalk. A few houses passed along the way, at a deserted side of the street, some questions were asked.

"So what was the premonition?" Tara asked.

Cordelia was cool in her answer. "I saw Elysia's daddy. He had a grrr face."

Tara, Lorne, and Dawn were stunned. "A grrr face?" asked Dawn.

"Demon eyes, heavy brow, fangs. What do you think?" Cordelia was angered by the ignorance.

"Calm down," said Dawn. "If Mr. Hughes is a vampire, then we gotta think about his family. It's up to us to take care of daddy."

Cordelia understood too well. Angelus' first victims were his family.

"Now wait a minute!" Tara pressured some thinking over this 'kick ass' plan. "I see we're missing a few important people, like your boss?"

"_Employee,"_ corrected Cordelia. "And we didn't need him a few times. Or a slayer."

Dawn stopped in her walk. Tara touched her arm. Cordelia just stared at her mistake.

"It's okay, little britches." Lorne patted Dawn on the back. "Cordelia needs a foot in the mouth."

"Yeah, sorry," Cordelia turned to Dawn. "You should see the Manolo Blahniks I swallowed the other day." Her sympathy was genuine for Dawn, brat that she is. The best thing to console her is to shut up on anything Buffyesque.

Dawn's face turned brighter face. "We can still kick ass, for Buffy."

"You're not a slayer, Dawn," Tara urged some warning.

"I was made from one."

"That doesn't mean anything," said Cordelia.

Dawn responded with strength. "Look, you saw that mother and kid. You don't want to see them made into vamp food?"

With a sigh, Tara showed her support with a pat on the shoulder. "Look, I didn't say I won't help. But we gotta think of the 'careful' part."

"Don't worry, we'll be. Just wait 'till that vamp gets a load of us!" Cordelia expected some cheers, but the gang before her eyes remained silent. Not the reaction she was expecting. It was in this disappointed glance that she spotted a car slowly moving behind them. Following them was a better word. It had very dark windshields. Alarms flashed inside her head. Pretending unawareness, she whispered to Tara.

"So, Tara, can you do that pencil trick like Willow?"

Tara shook her head. She didn't abuse her powers like that.

"Allow me," said Lorne, also aware of things. He hummed very loudly. Then he turned to the car. With a great sound, the windshield shattered. There was a gasp from inside and smoke. The car made a huge U-turn. It sped away from them and the sun.

The spectacle was not lost to the group. Any doubt that a vampire was around the neighborhood had now got pixie dust and went Mary Martin out the window.

"Nice trick," Cordelia smiled at her Pylean friend.

"A reminder of my singing education," Lorne joked about his awkward past. "But we've got one angry vampire now."

"We'll manage," Cordelia was optimistic. "I got a plan!"

Now did Dawn's confidence fall! "We're dead."

* * *

As night fell, Cordelia sat at a bench in the park. She sat there, admiring the neighborhood, smiling at people, flirting, and laughing. So far so good. The young woman was in high confidence. The vamp Hughes will no doubt be attracted to her (what with her sex appeal, though the resemblance to his widow was not a bad thing too). She had her holy water, her cross, her taser. And if those failed, she would run to any alley where Lorne or Tara and Dawn will attack. Then she'll stake the vamp off guard. Good plan.

This caper was something she could put her brain on, thought Cordelia with relief. That way she could forget the little detail that she was lost in some alternate dimension again. That detail was itself a distraction of a grimmer nature. Even though she had no control of it, Cordelia felt guilty over Buffy. If she didn't get stuck in Pylea, Angel wouldn't have rescued her while Buffy sacrificed her life to save the world again. Sure, Cordelia knew she was never a close friend to Buffy, despite the constant get-togethers with the gang, planning, demon hunting, and the like. But she had some great respect for the girl. After all, getting rescued deserved great respect. She should have predicted this, literally.

Still, Cordelia couldn't think about herself. The person she worried about more was Angel. The guy was in a real low of unhappiness, which had to be something considering he made grimness an art form. Now, Angel being happy was probably more bad than good, but even he deserved less depression. They both needed it, considering the whole Darla mess they both went through this year.

That was enough with the angst. Cordelia succumbed back to the present plan to dust Hughes.

* * *

Lorne was told to stay at one alley, while Tara and Dawn watched from another. He had trouble with the agreement. Frankly, his role in this trap was a major piece of miscasting. But he had no choice. Right now, that old 'I just remembered something' excuse was as convincing as Keanu Reeves' British accent in _Bram Stoker's Dracula_. So he had to play a part in the action and wait for another dead boy.

Which happened right now. Lorne could have heard the attacker yards away, but he was never the 'on-his-toes-badass' type. He did have time to face his foe. That was no advantage though. "Oh hi!" He slowly assured those words, best to reflect his friendliness. "You know, I love that Dark Avenger look. Speaking of which…"

The shadowy figure smacked him to the ground. Lorne's hat and shades went flying, displaying his horns.

"You're not human," was the vampire's greeting, plus a kick to Lorne's face.

The Pylean staggered. "Well, neither are you. Can't we get along?" Lorne reacted with a smile and absolutely genuine motivation to preserve his life. A knife bit into his throat. The vamp was severing his head from his body!

"You don't think we can talk about this?" Lorne pleaded with a mouth pouring with blood.

"Guess not," was his last words before the beheading.

* * *

Dawn and Tara stood at their alley. Their hands held stakes and makeshift crosses. Tara was a little pleased Cordelia left them alone. She can actually talk again. "Is Cordelia always like that?" She asked Dawn.

"Actually, that was the Cordeliator 700," Dawn joked. "Back when she was in high school, she was the Cordeliator 1000."

Tara absorbed this note with sympathy. Cordelia was so confident, so bitchy. Poor Willow! No wonder she was so shy in high school. She too was reverting back to 'quiet shy girl' under that girl's presence. Suddenly, Tara put a lid on the self-pity. She remembered Dawn being affected by the Hughes family. "It's sad about Elysia."

"Really? Why?" Dawn got testy. "Because she has the rest of her life before her and it will be without her father?"

Tara didn't disagree to the horrible situation. "I know it's bad right now. But she'll get better. When my mom died, you know what happened afterwards? I met Willow. I met you. I met friends who accepted me."

Dawn just darted away. Not entirely hostile though. "Look, I know you're trying to help, and that speech could win you the Pulitzer Prize. But am I supposed to think things will get better without my family? That I can get on without them?"

Tara found an uneasy block to her consoling. Her response was interrupted by a sound. "What was that?"

"Not good."

* * *

For an hour, Cordelia stayed at her spot. Nothing. She faced nothing. Was attacked by nothing. This plan was turning out to be, well, nothing. "Okay vampire…" Her slow moan showed the weak attempt to be civil. "Take your sweet time."

Then she heard the cry of her name. Tara had come looked slightly bruised.

Cordelia reacted to this without a question on the obvious.

"We were attacked. He got Dawn!"

Conflicting emotions ran inside Cordelia's brain. Though most of it was filled with compassion and concern, insult made its way as well. "Why Dawn?" She complained. "I'm supposed to be bait girl!"

"Cordelia!" shouted Tara at the thoughtless response.

"Sorry," Cordelia got her act together. "We gotta save her! Let's get Lorne."

The two ran to the alley where the Pylean stood guard. That's where a new problem came.

"Where is he?" asked Tara.

Cordelia looked around with some pessimism. "Who knows? Chances are he went all the way to...whatever is the farthest place in this country."

"I'm really not uncomfortable with that idea," said a voice from a trashcan.

Cordelia smugly took the evidence of her friend's cowardice. Tara came to the lid first. She gasped. Then Cordelia looked. She just stared at the disembodied head of Lorne. Not that she wasn't creeped out too. Just that she was already creeped out about it before. "What are you doing there?"

"My apologies." said the head, perfectly well under the circumstances. "I was just stupid enough to get decapitated again."

Cordelia pulled the head out of the trash. "So you met the vampire."

"As my present situation shows," Lorne dangled uneasily by his pulled follicles. "Watch the hair!"

"I met him too," Tara added.

"Lucky you," Lorne bore his irritation to his kindred victim's less battered condition. "The vamp did a job on me. He cut my head off and separated it from my body. I decided to keep quiet, hoping he didn't mutilate my body. Since I'm still able to sing "I've got no body," things look good for the rest of me."

"Here's some worse news," said Cordelia. "Dawn's been kidnapped. We got to look for her."

"'What about my body?" Lorne's head protested. "I didn't speak that last point just for a flashback narrative."

"Not now, Lorne," Cordelia yanked the head along in her run. "We've gotta find Dawn first. Keep…your head on."

* * *

Dawn was blinded and bound. Once both restraints were removed, her eyes saw a big dark place. A warehouse. How original.

And before her venomous eyes, was the vampire Maes Hughes. This man no longer resembled the photographs. This Hughes looked more like Angel with long hair and an earring. He sat with planted feet and bent knees, looking friendly. "So your name is Dawn." the vampire beamed a big smile. "Is that short for Donna?"

"Dawn as in Dawn," the namesake was blunt and to the point. "As in a time that makes you go ashy."

The vampire paused in a stare, then continued with his cheerful expression. "Touche. Looks like you're in a really bad situation now. Scared?"

Dawn faced the demon with a petulant face. Why was she always hostage girl? The school yearbook will call her 'Student most likely to be kidnapped!' Why couldn't the plan work and have Cordelia take her place? Right now fear was not Dawn's mood. She was too angry to be so.

Hughes continued. "Let me disappoint you. I'm not going to harm you."

"That's funny," Dawn spoke in disgust.

Hughes scratched his smooth chin. "You seem a very smart girl."

"Cut the patronizing."

"I'm not kidding. You must have experienced a lot of…what I am."

"So?"

"Well, I haven't." The vampire betrayed some confusion. "I just found out what to call myself today."

"Oh yeah," Dawn smirked. "Enjoyed the sun?"

Dawn saw Hughes' smile fall. This expression of uneasiness was surprising. "You're kidding? Are there more of you around here?"

"If so, guess I'm not that popular."

"What about the vampire that sired you?"

"Fathered you mean?"

Dawn took this with thought. This vamp was seriously literally in the dark! "Turned you into one. Y'know, made you into a big blood slurpie and made you slurp him?"

An expression of discovery filled Hughes' face. "Nope. Am I convincing you at all about my lack of knowledge?"

Dawn shirked. The guy was trying to be charming. Too bad it was working.

Discomfort grew on the vampire's face. He touched his scalp. "Look, if you're scared that I'm going to hurt you, than I'll come to the quick and say I won't."

"Sorry, but you seem to be performing the mystic ritual of being dangerous. Kidnapping me and all that."

"How can I convince you?"

"Let me go?"

"Sold," Hughes was quick to respond, giving his hand as an offering of agreement. "But first you have to give me something."

"I'm very anemic."

"Not that," Hughes moaned. He looked a little tense at the idea. Or was it temptation? "I want you to tell me more about who I am."

"Simple. You're a vampire. Ever look at the mirror? Get major sunburn?"

"I'm being serious."

"About what? Letting me go? It's vampirism 101 that they don't let their prey go."

"Well, I didn't know that."

"Really?" Dawn's tone was hardly surprise. She couldn't take this supposed naivete. "Right now you must be thinking about how good I look to eat...and I'm talking way too much to the point of endangering my life, right?"

She saw Hughes tense even more. Not a good sign. But he looked like he was fighting the discomfort. He backed away, rising to his feet. "I'll let you go. Okay?"

"Oh sure," Dawn fought against this possible truth. "You'll let me go, then when I'm all calm and safe, you attack me."

"I promise you."

"Whatever. 'Oh, I swear by my life.'" Dawn was mocking. "You have an unlife! 'On my word as a gentleman?' You're a demon! Anything you say is going to be so full of loopholes, I'll be eaten before I realize which one!"

Hughes became more serious, staring at Dawn with intense eyes. "I swear on...my daughter's life."

Dawn crushed her face in disgust. "You slimy bastard. You're so gonna break that one!"

Hughes' face collapsed. Dawn saw she really knocked him in the stomach with that one! "How dare you..." The serious factor increased to his face and voice, taking a frightening degree. "I'd never lay a hand on Elysia."

"Don't fool me. You're an evil demon without a conscience."

The shock strengthened on Hughes' face. "I-If I wanted to do such a thing, do you think I'd have done…that sooner?"

"C'mon! Vampires can't enter houses uninvited. No way can you go to y...your house...which you probably still own." Dawn found her way of thinking suddenly knotted. It was having a bad affect on her distrust.

Hughes' left eyebrow made a rise of confidence. "Do I take that as a sign that you're starting to believe me?"

Dawn sulked.

Hughes had gained confidence. "Well?"

* * *

The three (or the two and a half) persons returned to the spot where Dawn was kidnapped. So far Tara said nothing. It was hard to speak in front of such a dominant woman as Cordelia. She better do it soon, or she'll keep on hearing Cordelia's rant about how Hughes didn't kidnap her instead. The tone of her words showed nothing guilty about the complaint. "I mean c'mon! I'm the girl every demon makes a prisoner! That fraternity with the snake demon, the kid who wanted me as spare parts, the invisible Marcie, that demon baby clinic. Those Pyleans...nothing personal Lorne!"

"No complaints," said Lorne's head.

"Am I losing my touch?"

"Of course not!" The head f Lorne put up his best comfort power. "But you've got a new protégé now. I have to admit, being chased by a goddess and getting sacrificed to bring on Armageddon is a class of its own."

"Helping, please?" Cordelia complained.

"C-Can you just stop being in your 'me!' party for a moment?" Tara shouted.

"About time you said something." Cordelia took Tara's outburst at heart about her behavior. Guilt filled into her. Guess being with the Scoobies again led to a regression to her vain-and-vicious-bitch persona. "So how do we find Dawn?"

Tara almost quieted down. It was sometimes uneasy to declare something when strangers put her on the spot. "I-I can use a location spell."

Cordelia was ready to try anything. They had to rescue Dawn. If they failed, how can she face Xander and Willow? How can she face Angel?

Tara knelt down and called for Arcadia.

* * *

Dawn gave a face of shock, as if in final regret. Then her eyes glowed victory with her winning hand. "Gotcha!" she spoke somberly with the aces she revealed.

"Hmph!" Hughes playfully sulked, rejecting his five cards to the table. "You cheated."

"Hey, you're not the first vampire I've played cards with." Dawn combined the cards, gleefully reshuffling them. It was a good thing Hughes had a deck of cards so she can play jim rummy with him. That way she can stall him before Cordelia comes to the rescue. That idea didn't sound right.

"Or defeated," Hughes smirked at Dawn's cocky remark. This was the first time he actually talked to someone since that night. It was nice. He knew he chose the right girl to kidnap. Overhearing Dawn's sob story in the shadows clinched it. He felt sorry for her. That meant he couldn't bite her, right? "You smiled. You haven't showed it much."

Sure enough, Dawn dropped her lips. "Nothing," she got defensive. "I can be unhappy when I want to."

Hughes studied her mood. The girl must have one real big chip on her shoulder. But what could he do about it? Nothing seemed the desirable answer. Suddenly, a tiny speck of light came flying about his face.

Dawn stilled at the sight. Stalling time. "Nice firefly."

"No fireflies in a city," Hughes looked on with confusion. The speck then darted away.

"Trying some psychological warfare on me?" Dawn feigned ignorance for distraction.

"If I did, you wouldn't know it," Hughes resumed his playing.

"So you really don't know what you are?"

"You know more about me than me, evidently." Hughes kept his eyes to his dark surroundings.

"What were you before you became one?"

Hughes' voice hit the level of whisper and audibility. "I was a Lieutenant Colonel, in charge of Internal Affairs in the Military. Now I'm…was a Brigadier General." He found some humor in the promotion.

"Do you remember how you became one? A vampire I mean?"

Hughes' face turned very serious. "I don't really know, apart that I got killed."

"The vampire killed you."

"No, it wasn't a vampire."

"So a human killed you?"

"What killed me was not human," Hughes' voice was cold. He was slipping into memories. More than he wanted.

"So it was a demon?"

Hughes sighed with some censoring. "Let's just say that I went a little over my head. Someone had me removed for knowing too much."

"Oh, some corrupt government conspiracy, right?" Dawn teased.

Hughes was motionless in that accurate remark. This girl was smart. "You can say that. I ended up with a bullet through my heart." His heavy, but human, brow spoke volumes for Dawn on the experience. She saw Pain. Betrayal. Regret. It was like looking at a mirror. "Do you remember anything else?"

Hughes nodded. "As I lay dying, someone came over me. I think he was trying to help me."

"Bet he did," Dawn was icy. "So, have you made any of your own?"

"My own?"

"Vampires."

Hughes shook his head.

"You haven't eaten anybody?" Dawn spoke with hope.

Hughes hoped not.

Dawn grew antsy about this lack of an answer. "Not human?"

"Right now animal blood," Hughes quickly answered. "From the butcher' shop."

"And you never went to your family since?" Dawn got no answer. She didn't like that. The possible confirmation hit hard, as if it touched some inner bruises. "I guess you can't, what with you being an immortal demon. They'll age and you won't."

Hughes tensed in his smile. That was something he didn't want to know. "Are you being helpful, or insulting?"

"Take your pick."

Hughes glared at the girl, changing the subject. "You must have seen a lot."

Dawn paused for a moment. "Yeah…my sister did."

Hughes recognized the possible cause of Dawn's pain. He decided not to try retribution on hitting tender spots.

Too bad Dawn didn't feel the same way. "So what kind of demon killed you?"

Hughes was finding it hard to concentrate on the cards. "Let's not talk about that."

"I can handle it," Dawn showed her cockiness. "I've seen vampires turn into dust when they get staked through the heart."

Hughes kept that smile going, despite the inner discomfort. "It was a Homunculus. Ever hear of those?"

"Not from my world." Dawn went silent.

"Your world?"

Dawn decided to let the truth be known. "I guess it won't hurt to tell you. But if you go skeptic, remember: you're a vampire." So Dawn revealed that she came from a different universe. A different earth that looked like his world but was very different. Different in place, time, all that stuff.

Hughes kept his smile. "So how did you get here?"

"Magic."

"So are there any pixies in your world?"

Dawn moaned in insult. "So are you gonna show me your cards or not?"

"Coming to that." As he looked at his flush of cards, Hughes' mind was ever on Dawn. Did he believe in her story? She didn't appear to be lying. Or did this trust run a little deeper than that? If what she said was true, then this meant no one here knows her. She was a total stranger. No one would miss her.

Hughes' fingers bent his cards. He shuffled them into a deck and smacked them to the table. "Go," he declared in a rise from the table.

Dawn was struck at this sudden change of mood.

"You told me enough." He turned his back to her with a growling voice. "Now get out!"

Dawn was alerted to the words. "_Get out_ was Buffy-nese for _danger_. But this time she heeded the warning. She walked a few steps, growing more scared. Then she turned around. There was no one at the table. The growing fear exploded for Dawn in her moment of confusion. It was the perfect time to die now. And then the time of imminent death passed by. She was still alive. Did a non-Spike vampire keep his promise?

Dawn's ears heard noise. She looked up. In the background above her, Cordelia and Tara were facing Hughes.

* * *

Cordelia came to the door to see the vampire opening it. She could have explained to him the trouble she had climbing to the top of this building rather than taking the direct approach of going in front. However, the danger before her was a more different reason than maturity.

"Hello," Cordelia greeted with a smile, "Want to join God's mission?" She rammed her cross outward. "Feel the love!" It was one of those action-before-thinking moments. For Cordelia was uncertain of this target. Her premonition clearly showed Maes Hughes go vamp- the whiskered four-eyed Maes Hughes portrayed in those photos. This man looked like Angel without the hair gel. The doubt ended when this opponent went vamp face. Easy time. Hughes or not, a vamp was a vamp.

The vampire was antsy to the weapon before him. He was even more stunned when Tara followed with Lorne's head. "That's him officer!" The head spoke dispassionately. Tara walked aside Cordelia, bearing the stake. But the vampire threw his arm behind himself. Then he snapped his hand back forward. Out came a flying knife. Tara flinched to the attack. The knife made a collision to her hair. Nothing about her body was hit, though the blade's real target pinned her to the wooden pillar behind her. Lorne's head fell and hit the floor in a roll. "Ouch!"

Cordelia took no time to see her ally. It seemed Hughes knew the Angel vampire art of kicking ass. Couldn't she face some incompetent who could fall on a stake? She plunged the cross as far as her arm can stretch. The vampire showed more retreat. He fell to his hands. But that new support allowed him to swing his body at her. His hurling feet de-crossed her. Cordelia's free hand ran to her pocket for the taser. Not enough time, as she saw the vampire yanking his arm. Another knife slipped out of his sleeve into his fingers.

Cordelia saw the metal shine. She froze. Dying time.

But the vampire was still as well. His monstrous face hesitant, his fanged teeth gritted. What was he waiting for? Oh well. Cordelia clicked on the taser. One poke and the electrical energy sent the vampire staggering back. He fell to his knees, quivering to himself.

She then heard Tara yell her name. The girl flung the stake into Cordelia's awaiting hand.

"It's dust in the wind time!" Cordelia raised her stake triumphantly.

"Stop!"

Cordelia's triumph moment was shattered. She turned to see Dawn. This distraction would be the fatal mistake in her life. Except that the person who was going to show her that error in a very fatal way remained at his spot.

Dawn ran to the action. "Hold it, hold it, hold it!"

"Dawn!" Cordelia's call was disapproving.

Dawn walked in front of the vampire. Cordelia took that to mean something was going on. Well, Dawn is Buffy's sister after all. What is it with Summers gals and vamps? Then a more uncomfortable feeling sunk into her brain. "You're a vampire!"

"No I'm not!"

"She's not!" cried Tara.

While Cordelia heard this, Dawn turned to the vampire. "Sing, Hughes."

Hughes tried to rise, shaken from the taser attack. "What?"

"Just sing! Anything!"

After a moment's confusion, Hughes took this plea. _"How can I repay you, Brother mine? How can I expect you to forgive?"_

"Stop!" Dawn interrupted with a fury in eyes and voice. "Lorne!"

The head's face lay at a different direction. "Somebody turn me!" Dawn ran to the head and obeyed his wish.

"Thanks," he said.

"Well?"

Lorne was amazed. "Wow. Ever do Karaoke?"

"Lorne!" grilled Dawn.

"Okay, okay! He's legit, gals. We got a soul man…pire."

"A soul?" Cordelia had her mouth open.

Even Dawn was amazed. She didn't know that!

"Okay, moment of truth over," Lorne was nonchalant to the big news. "Can we go back for my body now?"

* * *

A shirtless Hughes arose from the waters of the river. A headless body was cast over his shoulder. He pulled himself to the cliff, hoisting the wet body before the watchful eyes of his companions. "I don't see why I have to do this."

"You can't drown, freeze, or suffer infection," Cordelia grinned. "Very simple reason to me."

The head of Lorne had his own axe to grind. "And you did dump my body here."

Hughes glared at the head. He could see the faces of the people he killed in his mind. First time he saw one in reality. Dropping the body (which got a protest from Lorne), he got to his shirt under their sight. The guy was something to see for two of the females, and then some. Maes Hughes was ripped, in both meanings of that word. Despite the sculpted muscles and abs, that physique was full of scratches and scars. Since vampires heal, it was evident Hughes had gone through the wringer before he became living impaired.

"So your kind can survive this way?" asked Hughes as he buttoned on his shirt.

Lorne couldn't nod. "Believe me, getting decapitated twice is enough for one lifetime."

Cordelia planted the head into the stump of the body's neck. Quickly a union was made. The stiff body was now as alive as the head.

"Need help?" Hughes asked, noting Lorne's slow rise.

"Haven't you done enough?" Lorne made his view of this invitation clear.

"Hey, you aren't human," Hughes defended his action, suddenly realizing the stupidity of his words.

"Thanks for being exclusive," Lorne caressed his neck. "Knife-happy with demons? Understandable, after what happened."

Hughes' eyes stilled at that remark. "You know that too?" He spoke with a suspicious awareness.

"You mean the Ho-monkey that killed him?" asked Dawn.

Lorne glanced at Hughes, getting the fill of his discomfort. "It's confidential, kid."

"Got that right," Hughes pulled on his coat.

"Okay, so this Ho-monkey demon killed you," Cordelia spoke her own stupidity. "Big deal." Then she found herself under his glaring eyes as well. Hughes turned away, speaking about another subject. "So are demons and humans friends in your world?"

"Hell no, but this demon is our friend," said Cordelia. "My friend." She emphasized the last point.

"So I made a mistake! You must have done it before."

Cordelia's thoughts ran to past times. Doyle. "No!" she denied.

"Hey, Lorne survived okay?" Dawn attempted to be mediator. "And Hughes didn't kill Tara."

Tara was not thankful. Nor was Lorne. "Nothing's forgiven," he complained. "You ruined my favorite shirt! It's all covered with blood and sewer water. I can't wear this."

Hughes shrugged, remembering the acid taste of Lorne. "Okay, let me atone. Come to my place. I think I got a shirt like that."

"Where?" cried Cordelia. "To your fortress-like lair?"

A beat was awaited as Hughes stared at her confused. "It's a small boarding house nearby. Looks like you might need some lodgings too."

Cordelia took the offer. "Okay, but remember. I'm a slayer. I'll kick your ass so many times before you show me those nasty whites."

"Whatever," Hughes instantly departed.

The three girls followed him, with Lorne the last. "Not going to slice my head off again, are you?"

* * *

Through the streets, the four followed Hughes through the alleys and streets. They kept a few feet distance from their guide, with Cordelia having a cross in hand. "So some demon shot him, then he got sired?" Cordelia repeated Dawn's story to her group. "Pretty redundant."

She saw the backside of Hughes tense.

"Oh don't go vampy on me!" Cordelia snapped back. "I bet right now you're feeling really guilty about it."

"I can always make room for another ghost," Hughes' voice was threatening.

But Cordelia was cool. "Suuurrre."

Hughes ignored the slight. He turned his head a little. "So Lorne, you're a what demon?"

"Pylean, from the world Pylea."

"Another dimensional world, I bet?" Hughes surmised.

"Yeah," Lorne confirmed. Dawn smirked.

"I was a Queen there!" Cordelia put her addition with a smile. Got no reply, though.

"Speaking of which, what's this place, anyway?" Dawn asked.

Without facing them, Hughes explained by voice. "This is Central City, capital of the country of Amestris. Number one nation of the world, thanks to invasions and conquests."

"Very creative name for a capital," quipped Cordelia.

"Militaristic society right?" Dawn spoke a more civil question.

"Under a Fuhrer."

The term stunned the four. "Really corrupt tyrannical government, no doubt," Dawn put her view forward.

"That's mankind for you," Hughes spoke with a cynic's tone. "Since you guys deal with weird stuff, this place also specializes in alchemy."

Tara lit up. "A-Anything about magic?"

"Alchemy is the only magic around here."

Shy or not, Tara didn't like this misconception. "No it's not. Alchemy isn't really magic. Alchemy is more scientific. Magic works because you can't really explain it."

"By the way," Dawn eplained. "Tara's a witch."

"Actually, I'm a wicca…but 'witch' is okay."

"Is that so?" said Hughes in a friendly tone. "Nice voice."

Tara smiled.

"And I have premonitions!" Cordelia jumped in. "See the future through side-splitting headaches."

Hughes didn't respond to that.

Tara continued on this interesting point. "So is…Alchemy the thing here?"

"Yep. We got an institution. The army uses Alchemist for war."

"You mean people can turn lead into gold here, with no problem from anyone?" Dawn was curious. "No burning at the stake?"

"That's good," Tara was more assured at the lack of persecution. "Not that I do that kind of thing. Transforming stuff. Goes against the flow of nature."

"Smart girl," said Hughes.

"Believe me, I know what happens when someone hits the flow." Cordelia interrupted again. The response was the same. "I'm invisible!" She complained.

"Nope," Hughes' answer was direct and quick. Nothing else.

Cordelia's ego received another hit. It started with the bait girl failure. Now the ignorance made it evident. "Is this because I tried to stake you? Look, I'm sorry about that. It's not every day I meet an ensouled vampire." Cordelia gave her best friendly face. But the realism crept in. "And nothing I say or do is going to get you to talk with me?"

Hughes' silence was his answer.

"Fine." She huffed.

* * *

The silence followed as they entered the small boarding house. The group were able to get a room. "Thank your wife for the money," said Cordelia.

Hughes just grimaced in secrecy. They soon followed Hughes to his room. After the unpleasantries, like Hughes mouthing down a bottle of blood, Cordelia dealt with the other unpleasantries. "Nice place. Guess the roaches had accommodations." Everyone glared at her. "Hey, I know what I'm saying. I was in a cockroach suite before I got my apartment."

"Couldn't you try a crypt, Hughes?" said Dawn.

"I live okay."

"Compared to that house you used to live in? You had to have enough as a General."

"I got that title when I died. Nice people, the military."

"Oh," Cordelia apologized. "You had to have saved something-"

"It's for my family," snapped Hughes. Cordelia decided to let the matter lie dead.

Hughes presented Lorne with his wardrobe. He looked like a kid in a candy store. Well, a green demon kid actually. "Hughes, you are truly a man of style!" His hands took advantage of the nice wardrobe.

"Thanks."

The demon's green fingers danced upon the shirts and coats. "Oh, orange shirt and brown coat!" Lorne touched the materials with glee. 

"Everything okay?" Hughes asked, getting no complaints. "So I'll leave you to your…"

Cordelia's mood changed really fast. "Not so fast, dead daddy."

Hughes turned to her. Cordelia bore the sort of face that stated she wasn't going to be ignored this time.

* * *

Any chance Hughes believed in an alliance with these people submerged with his present position. He was tied shirtless to a chair. His hands and legs were trussed to the hands and legs of the chair, his stomach and chest tied to the back.

"Sorry," Cordelia apologized. "Just a little bit of caution."

Hughes looked at her with disdain.

"Look Hughes. It's past midnight, and I want my beauty sleep. Tying you here is the best way I can enjoy my sleep. And keeping you shirtless removes any chance of having any more knives." Cordelia could also point out that it showed his physique more, which was nicely ripped, no matter how many rips were on it. But admitting drooling over the enemy would damage her credibility as a serious adversary.

"Lorne will have first guard duty."

"Great. Need I remind you he beheaded me?"

All complaints were ignored as the three left the room. Once the door was shut, the girls headed to their room.

"I'm bushed," said Tara with bags on her eyes.

"You look deader than him," Dawn spoke with concern.

Tara strained to keep thought in her sleepy mind. It was that tracking spell. She never got tired on doing such an easy spell before. From her experiences, this was not a coincidence. Something in this world was making it hard to call forth the magical energies. Fortunately, they were all safe right now, thanks to the no-invite rule for their room. Dawn wasn't happy with Cordelia's dismissal of Hughes. She recounted Hughes' free pass to his own house, and his failure to take advantage of it.

Cordelia wasn't won over. "Well, forgive me if I don't subscribe to the Maes Hughes fan club just yet."

Dawn smarted from that label. Whatever her own interest with Hughes is, it was no crush. Genuinely, definitely, vindictively not. Big emphasis on the last adjective. Still, she was not going to dust him simply because she had issues. "Lorne said he was okay."

"Lorne also encouraged Harmony to follow her path, which meant trying to kill me."

Cordelia was not entirely acceptant to letting him be. "And there's my vision. Hughes wasn't in there just for an extreme close-up."

"So, what did you actually see?" Tara yawned.

"I saw a close-up of a bearded, four-eyed Hughes going vampy. Than he was fighting something."

"No eating?" Dawn added with smart-alecky sureness.

Cordelia couldn't reply. "Look, right or wrong, at the moment the verdict's up in the air. We'll see how things go."

"So no stake-y?" Dawn confirmed Cordelia's mercy.

"He has a soul," Cordelia's reply was short and ambiguous. That was her best answer. It seemed the right one. If the difference between killing humans and dusting vampires was as soul, than an ensouled vampire shouldn't be staked. Then again, she could rationalize that having a soul and conscience didn't make a good guy. On the list of examples: Marcie, Faith, human Darla, Lilah, Lindsey. No tears for them if they got knocked off. Just as long as she didn't do the knocking off.

This complexity bothered Cordelia to no end in making a final decision. That this Hughes looked like Angel made the problem worse. She remembered soulless Angelus. And yet, that was a problem too. If Angel lost his soul again, would she go through with her promise to kill him? No matter how evil he was, she couldn't do what Buffy did, even to save the world. The Cordelia of High School would have done it. The Cordelia of today? She would wear polyester sooner than she could ever dust Angel, ensouled or not.

Hopefully she didn't regret sparing Hughes. For all his rude behavior to her, he didn't eat Tara and Dawn. True, he decapitated Lorne, but she would do the same thing if he was a complete stranger to her. She hoped she was right.

* * *

Lorne fell asleep quickly. Hughes remained in his seat. He relaxed his tense muscles, causing the ropes to lose their tightness. He could slip his hands free, then work on the rest. It was a skillful work. He didn't become a Major and Lieutenant Colonel out of good behavior, though promotion seemed to be a bargain sale these days.

He should be angry with them, but they had good reason. He was a monster after all, if their words can be believed. And what info! Not only is he demon who can't get a suntan or a reflection, he is going to be this way forever! Guess he'll be making it to that hundredth birthday after all! As usual, Hughes grabbed onto his humor to the point of abuse. Looks like he had better get used to it.

But this was no kangaroo court. The girls' clearly weren't planning to kill him. He'd be dust hours ago if they wanted him dead. The point that saved him was that their claim that he possessed a soul. As usual, new questions barged from answers. Hughes was never a guy on theology, so the matter was very sketchy. He looked to examples for proof. Alphonse Elric had a soul, and he was kinder than any flesh-and-blood child. Did the Homunculus have one? What about his own vampyre kind? Judging by the girls' decision to spare him for having one, he was probably in the minority. The majority must have an easier life.

He thought about the three girls and their help. They looked so innocent, so inviting…

Hughes held back, remembering Dawn's sad life. He used it as a guard against his worse instincts. Dawn was a girl with problems. She was a target for comfort to a part of him, a figure to be left alone by another. He didn't want to think what the remainder of himself thought of her. Tara as well.

Cordelia was a different matter. He shouldn't be so anti-social with her. But he couldn't help it. She filled him with such rage. He almost sliced…nicked her in the arm, that is. Yep, that was what he was going to do, Hughes repeated in his mind. But he hesitated. Again he froze before an opponent. _"You're right, Hughes. Maybe this is a more fitting end."_ If Dawn hadn't intervened he would have finally experienced her word about going dusty. She got on his nerves. But Cordelia wasn't the real problem, was it? It was someone else…

That 'someone else' wasn't Lorne, though. Boy, did he regret hurting him! Best the girls didn't know the true reason why he went brutal on him. The moment he smelled the difference in Lorne, all his dark thoughts found a target for release. At that moment he found something to kill without feeling bad about it. Something inhuman. Lorne unfortunately fit the bill. He regretted it now. Sure, it felt good to let himself go on the demon. But now that he knew him a little, the memory too became a suffering to him. What did this mean exactly? Did it mean that he really couldn't control his new nature? That one day, he'll go brutal on someone…

Hughes ended the deep thoughts. He had to shirk his dark side and what it wanted. After months of loneliness, he had met people who understood his problem. Killing them was not an answer. He had to prove to these girls that he wasn't completely negative. He had to prove it to himself.

* * *

The next morning, the Central station received its first train that day. Passengers got off it. Some new, seeing the nation's capital. Some were old, going to work or visiting someone.Among them was someone who belonged to the latter. This person had traveled, but unlike the ways of others. Sometimes he traveled on air, on foot, on train. He was a man, a woman, or an animal. His appearances were as varied as the stations, and just as discreet. No one was the wiser. Same old humans, he thought. Nice and stupid. He had returned home. Soon those Brothers will be here too. Envy was back at Central.

* * *

_Welcome to Central City._ General Hakuro saw this giant sign being lifted before him. He was back to regular authority now. Fuhrer Bradley had made a swift return to Central Command. It was somewhat regrettable. One day, though, he will succeed Bradley.

Now he was back to overseeing domestic matters. One such matter was in a larger room. New direction signs were being designed for Central's borders. All of them had _Welcome to Central City _in colorful letters The tone seemed a little pacifist for a military society, but the nation of Amestris was beyond any danger from without.

Only from within, Hakuro believed with a bitter insight. His mind was now carrying examples of such traitorous behavior. The Elric Brothers. Hakuro was given dark confidential information: an entire army at Liore was destroyed, and the Fuhrer King believed that the Fullmetal Alchemist was responsible. So Hakuro thought likewise. He felt betrayed. He sponsored Edward Elric into the State Alchemist institution. And this is how that midget repays his country? Fullmetal's reputation now became a tarnished image, blackening every memory the General had of him. Perhaps that rescue from Bald was planned in advance, as a way to win his favor?

All he could do now was wait for Lieutenant Colonel Mustang to apprehend the traitors. Hakuro was excited about that fact. He couldn't wait to try and condemn those brothers.

"So what do you think, General?" said one officer, holding the large signboard with the aid of another.

Hakuro awoke from his inner thoughts. "It appears fine."

And then a car ran over the sign. That was Hakuro's first shocking thought. The car came out of nowhere. It did not appear behind him. Its rear end materialized _before_ him. The safety of his position did not protect Hakuro from the astonishment of witnessing this appearance. He stood there as the vehicle hit the sign. Now free of its two fleeing human supporters, the _Welcome to Central City_ sign went crashing flat down, torn over by the car's wheels.

There was a silence in everything save the vehicle's motor. As the shock quickly subsided, Hakuro's battle-honed mind got to work. Was this some new invasion plot from a foreign country? Soldiers and officers rushed into the room to see this new vehicle. The car had a smooth surface, lacking the propulsion tubes of a regular automobile. Its windows were all black.

The passenger door swung open. A black leg came out, followed by the rest of the passenger. He wore a long black coat, and sported short blond hair. He looked at his surroundings with a wary but confident attitude.

"Kids," he puffed on his cigarette, "we're not in bloody Kansas anymore."

* * *

To Be Continued.

As any FMA fan knows, Maes Hughes' song is _Brothers_, in its translated form.

Next time: Central Command is engulfed by vampires and witchcraft! Dawn confronts her issues with Hughes! Envy meets victims of one of his crimes!


	4. Chapter 4

Late General Hughes

Chapter 3: A Funny Thing Happened at Central Command

By Claudius

I don't own anything _FMA_, _Buffy_, or _Angel  
_

* * *

Despite being bound and worried about his vampiric nature, Hughes eventually lost himself to sleep. He dreamed of an environment he never could be near again: A wide grassy field on a bright day. The sun...the sun was shining, its warmth touching his face. Hughes missed it to the point of crying. A cool breeze turned his eyes. He spotted a figure before him. His heart (figuratively speaking) elevated like a balloon. It was Gracia. She saw him too, smiling with her graceful face. His heart and soul connected with her, as forever shall be. Contact was demanded. The distance from each other shrank very quickly, vanishing with an embrace. Then kissing. Then loving. Hughes sank into his love for her. Everything he was and ever shall be, he gave to her. 

Gracia smiled. She had a gun pointed at him.

_Bang! _Hughes' mind, heart, and body entered the worst agony ever suffered. Probably a torture one can never survive. But he did not fall to this betrayal. He remained where he was, glaring at Gracia with remorseless eyes. Violated love blackened into hate. "Murderous cock-sucking bitch!" His cry was as decisive as his pounce upon the woman. His tight hold of her neck choked Gracia. It was no shapeshifting Homunculus, but a human female dying under his grip. Hughes pulled her neck to his mouth. He will enjoy her very much...

Hughes gasped, snapping back to reality. If he still needed air in his lungs, he would be breathless now. Comfort was lacking, thanks to his tied position. He could only realize the truth of this dream. He remembered now. Those girls tied him to a chair, with watch given by a horned green-skinned demon.

Said demon moaned. "Please put the volume control on your angst," Lorne rubbed his eyes in awakening.

Aware of everything now, Hughes refused to say anything.

Lorne sat up, very tired. "Look, sleeping with you isn't my idea of 'Strawberry Fields Forever' either." He sighed, compliant to some future action. "You got something that needs getting off, right?"

Hughes scowled. He remembered that this Lorne could read souls through singing. Central Command could put him to good use. The interrogation room as an audition room!

Lorne wearily scratched his back and neck. "I don't like grim and gritty. I'm more of a guy who likes to avoid it with a smile, as best I can. Just like you."

Hughes' eyes glued to the demon. Did he know something?

Lorne was analytical. "I saw the pictures. You can win an Oscar, but that happy face isn't the real you. Something you picked up from childhood, correct? Trying too hard to be the good son for your ailing father?" Hughes made no answer in spite of his surprise. Lorne got this much from just a few lyrics? Lorne lay back to bed. "When you got older, the confusion just started. You didn't know who you were, so you continued to hide it with the happy facade. You knew the mask better than yourself. Then some things happened. Here comes the grim and gritty part! The mask cracks as you do some things that really aren't happy. You begin to wonder: Is the real you something really opposite to that smile? Something worse?" Hughes began to think violent self-defense. Some forbidden territory was being explored. He now had decapitation and mutilation in mind. 

"And when you think things couldn't get any worse, you-"

"That's enough!"

Lorne was startled. "Actually, I was getting to the good part."

"In a matter of speaking," Hughes' stance was as penetrating as Lorne's story.

Lorne decided to obey. "Okay, skipping some scenes, you became a vampire! Now you're back to square one of 'Who am I?'" Hughes lessened his hostility. Maybe he should be hearing this? "Hiding who you are is never a good thing. Just ask Rock Hudson." Ignoring the mysterious name, Hughes spoke in a cold growl. "So what am I then?" 

This delivery caused Lorne to gulp. "I just give advice. It's up to you to find out."

"Dawn said that I'm only a demon."

"Partially right she is! You've got the same memories and personality of your human self, and probably the same flaws. But a demon's now taking rent in you, bringing power, instincts, and nature. Only this demon finds the apartment comes with a nosy human conscience."

Hearing this, Hughes thought of his motto: _Nothing is ever completely negative_. Of course, he was human when he believed those words.

Meanwhile, Lorne crouched to the headboard of the bed. He got this funny discomfort feeling. Call him crazy, but it probably came from the vampire who decapitated him. "Despite news of the contrary, a vampire doesn't always have to follow his nature. And ensouled ones really have a get out of jail free pass to that."

Hughes begrudgingly absorbed this advice.

Then Lorne opened up the wounds. "But that's not what's bugging you right now. It has to do with a certain Homunculus right?"

Absorption was now over. Hughes danced his hands free of the ropes. All he waited for was the demon to say the wrong thing.

"The trauma's gave you a round of the blame game. On your better half."

"So?" Hughes cringed. Not in fear, but in growing anger. His outburst, however, gave way to surrendering. "Okay, I loved her." The attitude lifted, revealing a human sense of loss. "Nothing I did, becoming a Major or Lieutenant Colonel, was as great as getting her love in my life. I would've done anything for her. I'd die, which I guess I already did." He grabbed the beautiful memory, holding onto what was left of it. But the terrible reality was in the lining, always twisting it into something foul. "I gave her my heart and soul…and look what happened!"

"Pretty traumatic thinking, ain't it? If you didn't worship the ground she walked on, you'd be still alive. 'Course, you'd still end up a vampire."

Hughes smoldered in his darkness again. What Lorne said did make sense. It was the vampire sire who was responsible for his present state. But…

Roy Mustang was just as responsible for his path, even if Gracia never existed (which could mean Elysia never existed). But…

It was the Homunculus who killed him. But…

_But_ he could have survived the Vampire attack. And he could handlethe Homunculus doing a Roy impression. No. No, he died because of that…_bitch!_ Hughes' words attempted some ice, but a cold resolve wasn't working as he shook to these memories. "Every time I think about her, I remember _that_. My life… she… that morphing thing…they made it all shit!" His face embittered, wavering with angry remorse. "That whore-"

"Careful on the colorful titles," the Pylean corrected in his growing fright. "It was the Homunculus who killed you. Not Gracia."  
"Doesn't change a thing."

"She did not do it. You have to keep telling yourself that."

"I've done it a thousand times!" Hughes' voice was rising.

"Than add a gazillion to it!" Lorne shouted despite his present situation. "The problem's gotten bigger with you being a de-."

Lorne's security took a major crash. Hughes freed himself, jumped on the bed, and grabbed his green neck. A vamp face formed the assailant's hostile expression. "Another word and I'll tear your body into so many pieces! Believe me, I've had enough of you quick-healing monsters!"

Lorne choked in his fears, risking things on a gambit. "Don't you wish I'm Gracia?"

It is hard for a vamp face to show uncertainty, what with all the skull formations and animal eyes. But Hughes managed to show it. It grew as his normal face returned. He released Lorne, staggering to the opposite bed post. His sweaty head bowed despairingly. "I…I don't know."

Lorne remained on his spot. Thank heaven for the right word at the right time! Bunking with the girls seemed like a very good idea right now.

Hughes wiped his tormented face. "Enough with analyzing me, okay?" His voice had a tired, pathetic tone to it.

Lorne nodded like a chicken pecking something.

Hughes approved at the sight. A frightening monster showing childish fear, just like Alphonse Elric. The glee was temporary, followed with bitter guilt. "I'm sorry."

Lorne started to get out of the bed.

"Look," Hughes did his best to apologize. "I guess I have some issues to consider."

Tell me about it, Lorne's perspired in a much lighter shade of green. Then again, don't.

Hughes grabbed his temple, fingers fiddling on the top of his head. He sighed. For every bad thing, there had to be a good thing as well. "Wanna head away from one touchy subject into another?"

Lorne eyed wariness. "Like what?"

"Tell me about Dawn."

Lorne breathed the mixture of a sigh and moan.

"Please?" Hughes threw his best smile forward.

* * *

Cordelia still considered the Hughes problem. The night sleep was supposed to give her a lightbulb idea, but it appeared she didn't pay the psychic electric bill. Confusion still reigned. Kill Hughes the ensouled vampire? Let him run free like Harmony? Will she ever see her Armani wardrobe ever again? 

If this appeared to be redundant thinking, keep in mind that Cordelia, Tara, and Dawn were right now in the city searching for Hughes. Lorne let him out. More like Hughes knocked him senseless before escaping. Lorne thought the guy meant no harm, saying he asked for some outside time. Since this came from the same Lorne who gave advice to Harmony to go kill her, Cordelia had reason to worry. That she wanted to take the reason was a question. If Hughes wanted to be rid of Lorne, would her Pylean friend not be around to tell her this?

But what about the premonition she had? Cordelia envisioned Hughes going vamp, and it wasn't for an extreme close-up. But even that had doubts. Her visions didn't necessarily portray only bad people. She had a vision of Gunn, and he was no demon. He was in trouble. Did that mean Hughes wasn't the problem, but was having trouble of his own?

These ideas already stemmed on the other good points of temptation. If Hughes wanted to kill his family at any time, he certainly took his sweet time, especially since he could enter the house anytime he wanted. Maybe she can trust him. Cordelia never knew an ensouled vampire who was a bad psychopath. She knew a few ensouled humans with a less colorful label. But an ensouled vampire was a different thing. As long as they remained ensouled, of course!

When Cordelia really got down to it, Hughes was like Angel. They looked alike, they sounded a little alike. And they both wanted to help people. Guess the days when demonnecessary evil were lost in those teenage days. She was growing up a lot, even if it did suck at times. That was especially true last night, when she slept badly thanks to a cold hard floor. Even after the IRS took everything away, Cordelia could still rely on a bed or something comfy for sleep. But she now was substitute leader, which meant she had to be sacrificial for the rest. She had to sleep on the floor while Tara and Dawn got the one bed. As usual, Cordelia had another motive: what if Tara dreamt about Willow and started groping in her sleep? Of course, Tara did nothing to her bedmate Dawn. The two slept comfortably together. So much so that it was a good thing Cordelia already knew about Tara being a surrogate mom to Dawn, else her suspicions would have wandered.

The real facts were weirder enough. Willow a lesbian? A new point in that 'things change' metaphor, added to the friend-turned-vampire thing. Cordelia found some major differences in her home team. Willow had gone from one boyfriend to a girlfriend. Guess she didn't have to worry about anymore 'boyfriend theft' from her (like Willow could!). Spike now served as the Scoobies' vampire mascot. Giles had a magic shop, employing an ex-demon, Anya, who was snuggling with her ex Xander.

Not that all things changed. Dawn was still a pest, or was that _now a pest_? The truth confused Cordelia more than the plot to _Fight Club_. So Dawn had no existence before last year? That she was a ball of energy that became a human, and everybody's mind was raped into believing she was around since Buffy first turned up in Sunnydale? So the times Dawn annoyed her, Cordelia reasoned, she was actually annoying herself? Okay, her mind was going in knots. Add her heart to that, along with everyone else. From far and wide, Buffy's end had left a mark on all who knew her, like yours truly. This led to a lot of awkward silent periods. Cordelia found herself unable to say any remark to break the ice. That is, any remark not insensitive. Another part of the new Cordelia. Too bad it included these premonition headaches. The pain from each one was lasting longer than usual. And there was no luck for aspirin in 1915 Amestris.

Oh well, Cordelia was resolved, best to hide said problems with her sexy face and dazzling smile! At least she was talented in that. Good or bad, Hughes had to be found.

* * *

While Cordelia and gang searched, the residents of Central Command dealt with the new arrival: A car that came out of nowhere. The surrounding soldiers all pointed their guns and rifles at it. Their grip remained firm as a man came out of the vehicle and said, "Kids, we're not in bloody Kansas anymore." 

This stranger spoke to the car's other passengers. "Come out, Scarecrow and Glinda."

Some things were noted by the surrounding military. The stranger appeared bothered by the brightness of the painted windows. He resembled the late Colonel Kimbley, but with a scary glare more suited to a psychopath (then again, for the soldiers who knew the Crimson Alchemist, there was no difference). His accomplices were younger. The man resembled a younger Roy Mustang. One officer, Hannigan, noticed the young woman with them looked like Miss Schiezska.

But General Hakuro had no time to act shocked. He strutted before the three. "Speak." He ordered.

The Kimbley lookalike gave the authority a puff of smoke from his cigarette.

"General Hakuro has given you an order," said Lieutenant Noxon. "Answer him."

The lookalike's face fell to a darker stance. "Not bloody likely."

The young man differed by putting his hands up. The young woman followed, though the calm look of her face showed no intention of a definite surrender. The Kimbley lookalike just flung his cigarette. Before it hit the ground, he lunged out, jumped over some soldiers in a colossal leap and ran out the door. His speed was impressive.

Hakuro didn't care. "Green, Powell, Hannigan, after him!' He shouted decisively. Then he turned to the officers not with the pursuers. "Brendan, Carpenter, Marsters. Take these two for questioning." He too left the room. Handcuffs were applied to the remaining prisoners ("Watch the wrists!" whined the man). They were escorted away.

The remaining officers Boroneaz, Strait, Greenwalt, Espenson, and Benson put their eyes to the car. It was built very strangely. The windshield and windows were painted black. The hood, fender, cabin were smooth on the outside, not carrying the engine tubes to propel the engines. There were materials in the car. A rifle. A box filled with smelly plants, a glass orb, and a note full of instructions and gibberish. Suddenly, knocks and a voice came from within the back trunk. "Somebody help!"

A gun broke the trunk lock. Inside was a heavily shackled man. The officers couldn't sustain their responses. This man too resembled someone. He looked like Brigadier General Maes Hughes. Such a belief was scrapped with disappointment. Even those State Alchemists couldn't resurrect the dead.

"I was minding my own business," The prisoner pleaded softly, "when these people attacked me and tied me up." He showed his bound position. "Can someone get these chains off me?"

Sgt. Strait got some pliers. "Oh, very kind of you," the man put out a beautiful angelic smile. A snap, and a row of chains came off. Then another. And another.

"Someone contact General Hakuro," said Corporal Boreneaz, "Report a kidnapping."

Greenwalt and Espenson departed. That left three with the victim.

"Thanks," the man said with a smile. "And sorry." His fist flew and made Strait unconscious. Then he scooped up the chain as his weapon. His fingers dipped into the middle link, placing the whole links to his command. He swung one end, wrapping it around Benson's legs. One yank and the soldier tripped and fell headfirst onto the floor.

His ears picked up gunshots. His shoulder shirked at Boreneaz's bullet. But his other arm swung the chain, slapping and disarming the Corporal's hand. He grabbed the weaponless Corporal, his new target. "I want some questions."

"Go to hell."

There was no surprise in the opponent. "Been there, done that." His face suddenly changed. Corporal Boreneaz saw the devil himself.

* * *

Nearby, Officers Brendan, Carpenter, and Marsters saw two amazing things. First were the woman prisoner's eyes going pitch black! The other was their sudden departure off the floor. They rammed the wall into unconsciousness. 

Xander looked dumbfounded at their present emancipation. Willow was getting big with the witchcraft! Just a phrase 'hit the wall' and the guards went on cue. Just as impressive was the handcuffs flying off their wrists. The plan was be to get Dawn, Cordelia, and Tara and get out of this new world order. But prior to that, the best thing was to get out of here.

Willow had the same idea. "Clothes change." Their clothing changed to uniforms.

"There," Willow cutely smiled. "We look very soldiery now." The disguised duo walked around the halls as calmly as possible, getting a view of what world they entered. "Do you think Angel's alright?" Willow asked.

"Assuming your spell worked and it's still Angel." Xander did not share similar feelings. "Excuse me if I'm more worried about this place. It looks like some weird Bizarro world where the Nazis won."

Willow nodded to Xander's view, even if his knowledge of the Third Reich came from the Indiana Jones movies. "I don't see swastikas anyplace."

"But those guys said a Fuhrer."

"Like him?" Willow took Xander to see the painting on the wall. It caught them like a net of fish hooks. It said Fuhrer Bradley, but it looked like Mayor Wilkins with a moustache and eyepatch.

"Anymore omens that we're in screwed central?" Xander faked a smile.

Willow's mind always sparked to some logic. "He could be the Mayor Wilkins of this universe."

"So you think there's another us in this universe?" Xander treaded on any good thing in their situation. "Maybe I'm some popular, handsome soldier around here!" He vainly brushed his black hair.

Before Willow could think of her possible counterpart (one that wasn't skanky and evil), a serious example came to her head. "Mebbe there's another Buffy here?"

Xander went silent. The idea was eligible for major thinking. Put E in eligible.

Willow than entered a place called Records.

"Will, I don't think this is anywhere near out of here."

Willow contrasted Xander's emotions with calmness. "Knowledge is power."

"Getting out of here is power too. You finding our friends is power too."

"The pen is mightier than the sword."

"The Joker said that," Xander pressured his popular culture knowledge. "As in joke?"

Willow shook her head at this ignorance. "It's the best way to learn about the Hughes vamp."

"Helping Angel? You're taking the leader job very seriously." Xander grasped at other things. "Can't you take the command to find Dawn and the others?"

"Forgetting love of my life here," snapped Willow. She wanted to put Tara in the prior of priorities. But being a leader meant she had to slide that one to no. 2. Besides, taking down those guards took a chockload amount of 'a lot' out of her. She needed some time to recuperate. But she didn't tell Xander that. Leaders can be secretive too.

Xander didn't follow. "I don't know about you, but I'm finding my own way out of here and find our friends before our two dead boys does." He ran out of the room despite Willow's protest. His disappearance could make the witch sigh. As leader she had to get information. Information on Maes Hughes was what counted. Then she can find Tara and Dawn. Stupid priorities. Stupid, dumb priorities! With a sigh, she explored the records room. Predictably there were no computers, so she had to get things through reading (won't Giles be happy with this place!). Or she can ask someone. It was that simple.

Then again, the events that started this whole mess had the simple signs on it too. Willow wanted to use a spell to search for Buffy's soul through space or time. To do it, she needed Angel. Because of his ties with the afterlife, Hell, and his 200 something year experience, Angel could be used as a nexus to track down Buffy's essence.

The ritual was done in the Magic Shop, without Giles' knowledge. Only Xander, Anya, and Angel's friend Lorne witnessed it. Cordelia and Spike were supposed to watch Dawn. That didn't work out. Dawn came and interrupted the ritual mid-session. The energies suddenly went amok, grabbing Dawn, and then Tara, Cordelia, and Lorne, sending them somewhere over the rainbow. Why? Willow rounded up the suspects. Angel was one. The spell somehow opened a buried memory within him, the memory of another universe. And for some reason, the spell became a dimensional doorway. That could be Dawn's doing. Maybe being The Key meant Dawn had some dormant ability to open any kind of metaphysical gate, like Angel's memory and the other dimension. She's still a mystic schlage, termed Xander.

Everything wasn't humor from Xander though. He really burned Willow on the stake for pulling this trick (a good thing Giles didn't know yet, and Anya will make sure it stays that way). Willow's viewpoint was nowhere in his viewpoint. She still thought getting Buffy back was the right thing (In fact, the missing whereabouts of her soul gave a darker meaning on where she truly is!). The only guilt she felt was accidentally sending Tara, Dawn, and the others to this world.

So, they had to go to said dimension. Angel proved helpful in that. For one thing, he would be Willow's host for locating the dimension. But he also had advice. He spoke of the trip needing some dimensional 'hot spring' to tap the efficient energies. He also said that they needed a car to travel through the dimension. The lack of metal protection would either throw each passenger to different parts of the other world, or merge them into some freak. Since no one was happy with that latter consequence, provisions were made. The ruins of Sunnydale High School, home of the Hellmouth, would be the 'hot spring.' For the latter, Spike offered his car, saying he was going to find Dawn. Angel and Spike naturally came to blows over this, but Willow persuaded them (rather menacingly) that either both go or both stay here.

While Spike's only motive was Dawn, Angel had other reasons. He said he had to find Cordelia, the tone of his wish giving some interesting ideas (Sly Cordelia, Willow grumbled. Always managing to get anyone wrapped around her finger. In that case, she had to find Tara soon!). But there was a reason B too. The memory Dawn unlocked in Angel's noggin was another one of his murders- set in the other dimension during his post-curse period. Being over here somehow turned off his soul's power, not the soul itself since the only way it could be lost was by Angel...Anyway, pseudo-Angelus killed and sired a man named Maes Hughes before coming back to this world and his own guilty grumpy self. The shock that he sired someone post-ensoulment was too much for Angel, causing him to repress the memory. As usual, 'We hate Angel' club treasurer Xander gave this reasoning a shaker of salt. So Angel's three-month rampage in Sunnydale 1998 rated 10 in the horrible acts most likely to cause denial and repression, while killing this Hughes guy rated 1?! Anyway, Angel felt (as usual) he had to make amends, this time by stopping the Hughes vamp.

Skipping to the present situation, the rescue party got split up in some neo-Nazi world. Right now, the Spikemobile had to be abandoned. Too bad, with what they left behind: Weapons, Willow's soul-restoration kit, and Angel. Nobody (living, that is) was assured about the idea of Angel coming along, considering what happened the last time he made this trip. Willow attempted something. Since Angel's soul needed a magic Duracell in that world, she reasoned that some depression spell would give it the needed juice. But Xander took no chances, forcing Angel to be chained up and locked in the trunk. Just in case, Willow took the ensoulment equipment. That was now confiscated, along with the stun rifle. That meant Angel's one chance was that spell. It better work or this Nazi world will be the least of their problems. In that case, Willow better find this information as soon as possible.

She went to the custodian. "Excuse me, can you tell me anything about Maes Hughes?"

* * *

In a cramped army coat, Spike walked along the darker hallways. It was easy to sneak up on one soldier, freak him out with his Vamp face, and ask for his coat and money. Unfortunately, some of the wankers got the balls to fight him instead. Bad thing for him, since this chip played kick the can with his brain. But Spike was able to dodge said opponents, whose attacks usually led to their journey to a wall, floor, or someone else into the jolly land of unconsciousness. As good these nasty (for the wankers) moments felt, Spike was disappointed. Perhaps he could use some balcony he can dodge these soldier boys into. That would have been almost funny! 

Almost. It was clear to Spike that he was lacking the vampire juices. He was going through the motions, killing demons, helping Buffy's groupies, watching Dawn. Only his heart got stopped (metaphorically speaking), its beating ended at that sacrificial altar tower, and _her_ death. Temporarily alone, Spike leaned against the wall in sad contemplation. It's funny; his little pity party after Dru dumped him now appears so bloody pathetic. Wished he could experience that stupor now than this present hell. Words flashed in his mind:

_Because of the loss of Slayer love, _

_came nasty boils and unhappy depression thereof,_

_See the vampire now, with all yon glee, _

_He is destroyed indubitably!_

Oh bloody hell, Spike sobered up to his actions. He was reciting bad poetry again! Really in a bad way now, he despaired. Got to get what's left of his act together. All that mattered now was Dawn. If she was in this stormtrooper world, he'll rescue her. Not Willow, not Xander, and certainly not bloody Dead Boy.

That was easier said than done. This place was a déjà vu shop of bad memories, with import goods of Initiative. Wondered if this soldierboy country dealt with demons in a similar way? Spike considered himself definitely not the one to find out.

Oh well! Spike marshaled his resolved strength. Let this world watch out! Here comes Spike, William the Bloody, ready to fight…to beat all…for puppies and Christmas…

The rising resolve was very temporary. Who was he kidding? Back to despair time.

* * *

Fuhrer King Bradley was having his first cup of tea since his return from Liore. The tray was gently added to the table before him. His covered eye predicted each movement the temporary Secretary gave, detecting nothing negative in her work. Good tea. 

He thought about the Elric Brothers' predicament. After many centuries, a real Philosopher Stone had been created- inside Alphonse Elric. The armored one needed to be apprehended. His brother won't be so lucky. Bradley sent Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang for that job. This would be a test of loyalty. Will Mustang apprehend the Fullmetal Alchemist, or change sides? Bradley was nonchalant about either choice. And Mustang was such a good military dog. This generation bred the best of the best. It was a shame Bradley cared nothing for the soldiers who served him so diligently.

Oh well. It was all for the Master's good. For all his own loyalty, Bradley did find her new form a bit shocking. Not so problematic was her need for the Philosopher Stone. Bradley accepted the reason, just as long as she accepted his importance to her plans. He emphasized that importance. The Master couldn't have gotten anywhere without his help. Certainly not from that traitorous Lust, that numbskull Gluttony, or that insolent wild child Envy. He is the Master's Pride.

Bradley reviewed the calendar. Very soon it will be Selim's birthday. Fatherhood was another role Bradley had to portray well. He could do better than the late General Hughes did with his Elysia. How he spoiled that child! The result was a nuisance who wanted to be seen and heard. Way less mannered than his good son. Despite such views, Bradley had to put the façade of a loving Fuhrer for that girl too. Even though he was the one who rendered her fatherless.

There came a flexing of his covered eye. His senses picked up some noise. It seemed a commotion was going on. Bradley arose from his chair and grabbed his sabre. Could the Elric Brothers be making an attack? Fools.

The Fuhrer walked through hallways, predicting every officer's appearance. The building and his inhabitants were like his own body. None could escape his watch.

* * *

Soon, Spike came to a garage. Fortunately, it was an empty one. His nose tickled by the pungent smell of wet paint. Part of the place was getting redecorated. 

Now how to get out of here? The Spikemobile was no question ( it was on its last legs anyway). Spike's eyes spotted a new vehicle. What do we have here? It was a limousine with tubes on its back. Hot-wiring it will mean a good getaway. But what about Mr. Sun?

The scent gave him an idea.

* * *

Lieutenant Goode pointed her gun at the oncoming intruder. Her stern resolve became addled with recognition. "Colonel Hughes?" 

This surprise gave the intruder the advantage to knock her down. Another officer jumped to tackle him. He got out-leapt. That officer too fell, this time landed by a kick.

The intruder got imprisoned in a headlock. Bad move. His own skull made a strong impact with the captor's face. Headlock broken.

More soldiers arrived. He escaped their attacks by dodges or by physical combats that had them lasting a minute or less. Some soldiers.

His nose picked up a scent. Xander. And another...

* * *

Xander found his trip out of the Command building. He used the ventilation shaft. Unfortunately, the effort to get to safety was tight, dark, and cumbersome. The easy factor got stretched even further by this long raincoat uniform. Maybe walking out in this suit was the better idea. He still had his soldier thinking (he thought so). He could be mistaken for a Lieutenant, or a Sergeant or a General?

Damn it, Xander picked on himself. He really should have taken advantage of that soldier personality he got four Halloweens ago. Stupid! If Xander was really putting himself through the wringer, it was better than depressing about Buffy. Work brain, not heart! On the situation! Not on your situation with Buffy!

But forgetting the past was really impossible. The return of Cordelia and Angel made things feel like high school again, making those memories very vivid. So much time had passed since the school blew up. Outsiders would need the _Official Index of Buffy the Slayer#_4 and 5 to understand the changes. And the final issue would be worth a few reprints, like _Uncanny X-Men#137_ or _Amazing Spider-Man#121_…

Yep, Xander knew it; he missed her. Romantic yearnings had gone away but the core friendship feeling they had gave enough pain. When Superman died back in '92, Xander blubbered for weeks (made him unpopular…more so). His mourning may be considered dorky, but it readied him for death in real life, which was worse. At least Superman could be resurrected by the writers; No chance for Jesse, Miss Calendar, Mrs. Summers, or Buffy. Life wasn't a comic book. Beloved real people can't be brought back by some fanfic writer!

Only Willow couldn't accept that. She had to use her magic. And now Dawn, Cordelia, Tara, and Lorne were gone. Thanks Will! Then and now, Xander saw his best friend Willow as a target of anger. Can't she accept that Buffy is dead? She's dead…

But the problem with making a point is that you have to believe it. Xander found he really didn't want to accept the truth either. Heroes can die, but they can come back too.

Yes, he was one very pathetic guy.

Some light was spotted in the corner. It was at a slanted part of the shaft. Xander had to move slowly and carefully.

* * *

Fuhrer Bradley was hit by something above him. It was an officer dropping out of the ceiling, his impact sending the Fuhrer straight to the floor. He slowly arose, anger snapping his sinister calm. Sparks flew in his inhuman brain, thinking less about the crash and more to the fact that he didn't predict it. His eyes struck the figure. He looked like a young Mustang, but the resemblance meant little compared to his presence. Bradley's human eye saw him solid and clear. But his Ultimate Eye saw no more than his regular one. No sign of hostility, no anticipation of his person's next move. It was as if he didn't exist in this reality. 

"Um, sorry. Pardon me. Have I said enough apologies?" Xander's confidence drained away when he met the Fuhrer. If this guy was as bad as Hitler or Mayor Wilkins, he was pretty screwed. He thought about the quality of his army abilities again: could the word 'nothing' be a better term for its existence?

"Hold!' cried Bradley.

But Xander turned away. A few steps forward and he saw Bradley was now in front of him. Yep, the similarity with Wilkins wasn't just facial. "Okay, lemme guess. You're a demon right?" Xander accused him.

An eyebrow arched from Bradley. He knows! Then this man's fate was sealed.

Xander slurred to empty space. "Damn I'm right and I really shouldn't have said that aloud." Yammering at the face of danger concluded, he stepped a few feet back. The Fuhrer marched toward him forebodingly. He unsheathed his sword.

"Um isn't killing a soldier for a stupid accident, illegal?"

"I make the rules," Bradley smiled.

"Very convenient," Xander found wit in the worst predicaments. His eye spotted a flag on the wall. He grabbed and pointed it as a weapon.

The staff cut in half. Xander didn't even see the demon slice it. Okay, Xander grasped at straws. He can use the remaining piece as a stake. Maybe Bradley was a vampire?

A new voice cut in. "Am I interrupting something?"

Bradley stilled his deadly attack to see the new visitor from ten feet away. It looked like General Hughes back from the dead. But it was not. For one thing, this man had a gloomy face that seemed an anathema of the late General. He bore a sword behind his back, and immunity to his Ultimate Eye as well. Who are these people?

Xander saw Angel's entry too, but the idea that he was saved did not occur to him.

"I smell a demon in here," Angel spoke slowly and calm. The tone really didn't do anything for Xander's plight.

Bradley sighed. It appeared a lot of people were learning his secret identity these days!

Not to mention dying or being condemned to death because of it.

"Can I watch you kill him?" Angel smirked.

"No!" Xander moaned. He secretly promised to marry Anya the instant he got out of here alive.

Bradley ran his sword toward Xander. From nowhere it was deflected by a parrying shot from the visitor's own blade.

"Sorry, did I get in your way?" Angel smirked.

Bradley turned his arm and weapon. Angel continued parrying it with his sword. The crossed blades tore intensely edge by edge, scraping a sound both their ears could hear. Then the blades parted. Both wielders realized a brutal fight was to ensue. Xander heard Angel's caring voice. "Get out of here. I'll meet up with you later."

"Why don't I think that's good?" Xander protested. But beggars can't be choosers, so he scurried off into another vent.

Bradley moved into another stance. The next sword attack went beyond the previous hit in speed. The subsequent separation saw Angel now having a long tear on his shirt.

Bradley smiled. He stood tall and calm in bored pride, tapping his sword on the floor like a cane. Then the eye patch broke. A warm wetness came to his upper lip. Blood.

And Angel set his sword on his shoulder and frowned.

"Mmm." Bradley sounded interested. This was a very skilled and swift opponent before him. This would be a fight without his vaunted Ultimate Eye. He trembled, excited. It was about time he had an interesting duel.

* * *

At the back gates of Central Command, guards saw to the departure and arrival of every official. The latest departing vehicle needed no pass or word to leave. It would be really hard for the guards to do so, since this limousine sped through the gates, driving away in reckless motion. They recognized the vehicle as General Hakuro's limo. All the windows were painted gray.

* * *

Two swords crossed for the umpteenth time. Strength supported each weapon, neither wielder giving quarter. The opposing faces tensed. Bradley's calm demeanor was breaking before this pressure. Angel remained morose. 

So far, only a stalemate was made between the two swordsmen. Bradley found a quick victory difficult. This man's immunity to his power forced him to rely on his wits and skill for combat. He was also younger and quicker than his older self, Homunculus abilities notwithstanding (he never liked this unique aging ability the Master gave him). Still, it was fun. To risk and err was new, interesting. And he can actually use the rest of his body for a change. Earlier opponents barely made his legs move. "I haven't enjoyed a workout for a long time," Bradley darted for an opening. It failed.

"I can believe that, Gramps." Angel's swinging sword defense contrasted with Bradley's charged thrusts. His agility was quicker than Bradley's older form. Neither factors proved effective in showing an inevitable tide.

"The youth know nothing of their elders," Bradley smiled.

"Yeah they don't," Angel smugly complimented that statement. "Me, I'll never know, being 27 for the last two hundred years."

His defenses were unbreakable, but Bradley nonetheless was alerted to this man's reply. The words lacked falsehood, sounding genuine. "Than I should call you gramps. Wish I had your long youth."

"So you're one of those immortal but aging demons?" Angel parried and dodged. "Gonna end up wearing a diaper in the next eternity or so?"

"Touche," Bradley hid the rage of that insult's stab. And yet the opponent lacked any delight, carrying a scowl throughout. Quite a difference from his own amusement! He swung his blade at Angel's feet. He avoided it with a jump, skipping upon the wall and returning to the floor for a surprise attack. Bradley was ready.

"Hold!" cried another voice. The Homunculus paused and watched an officer arrive. He was that way as Angel's sword cleaved his head off.

The officer in entry turned pale at this horrible sight. "I said Hold!" He fired his pistol at Angel. A bullet tore into his shoulder, sending him back.

The officer moved in front of the Fuhrer's corpse. He growled his verdict. "You're under arrest, murderer."

His shoulder pulsating, Angel saw a greater danger than his assailant. "Get out of here, now!" The corpse popped out a new head. Angel tensed at the regeneration sight. Officer Baylock turned around. Too late. His head was swiftly removed; there would be no regeneration for him.

Angel's face became grimmer. He arose with a strong glare that surprised Bradley.

"Didn't know you cared." Bradley cleaned his red blade. His eyes barely fell on the officer he betrayed. "If anyone knew, I couldn't be Fuhrer anymore."

"Good ties of loyalty," Angel only spoke the words.

Bradley snorted with a restoration of nonchalance. "I can do anything I want."

And now Angel's scowl lifted a little!

Bradley showed no change in his new regenerated appearance. "Not dead I see."

"Already am."

Swords clanged again. The distance between faces was small. Intense expression met intense expression.

"You'd make a bad soldier."

"And you're a very bad leader."

"Can these humans do any better?" Bradley was now growling his words.

Again, any separation was short.

"Sorry. Demons in the government never work. Last one I knew got blown up."

"Interesting," Bradley didn't know if this figure was imagining things, or if he was speaking of a different reality. Did that mean more lands to conquer? "I never really dealt with anyone of your talent. I usually force the beginners to find another line of work. You remind me of one potential. I stabbed my sabre through his wrist. I actually considered slicing it off."

"Does this have a point?" Angel didn't show any concern.

"You do resemble him. He's dead now. Another one doomed for knowing too much."

Again, Bradley saw his opponent frown. Did he know General Hughes perhaps?

Soon the fight came to a balcony near a stairway. "As much fun this is," Bradley tried to decide the situation, "I think it's time to close it."

"The same thought entered my head." Angel was before the balcony. "Make this easy for me; let me kill you."

"Oh no," Bradley's refusal was polite. "Too much work to do." His attack wasn't. Angel's heart received cold steel. He leaned on the balcony. Bradley was glad. He swung his blade to behead. But Angel leaned all the way, his head missing the slice. His legs combined and rammed Bradley's stomach. The force knocked both opponents backwards. Angel added to the momentum by freeing himself from everything save the air. Such emancipation could not last as gravity snapped its whip.

Reeling from the blow, Bradley spied this fall with disappointment. A so-called immortal like this opponent could not die so easily. Some major mutilation was needed.

Bradley's eye pulsed with prediction. Six officers entered the scene. They looked shocked. "Fuhrer, are you wounded?"

"Just a scratch," Bradley made his warmest smile. "Officer Baylock wasn't so lucky." The officers headed to the balcony. "Where's the assassin?" asked one.

Bradley kept silent to this disappearance. The man had probably done a swift escape. His Ultimate Eye could not detect his whereabouts. And with these fools around he could not try a fast pursuit without showing his inhuman abilities. It was a draw.

_Dammit._

* * *

All of Officer Baylock was carried away in a shrouded stretcher. Many saw him with respect. 

"Whoever is responsible," Hakuro stared at the corpse. "He'll pay for this."

Bradley was silent. He sat by himself, refusing aid. Words failed him. Hakuro understood. Too many costs these few months for the father of the country. Colonel Hughes' murder, the army massacre at Liore, the betrayal of the Elric Brothers, now this sneak attack. Problems like this will be his responsibility as well, once he succeeded the Fuhrer.

Hakuro than saw Bradley walk to him. What a marshaling of strength! Hakuro thought in his astonishment. "General,' The Fuhrer spoke seriously, "I learned the intruders came from Drachma. This attack was for their nationalist pride."

Hakuro nodded. "We shall mobilize immediately!"

* * *

Officers searched the records room for the intruders. They found no one. _No one_ hid behind them, dressed in their blue uniform. She blended with them and left when ordered. 

Willow could snicker at her abilities and good luck, if she didn't feel a little tired. Her smart mind clicked with the fact that this place made magic very hard to use. Using spells felt like squeezing a magical watermelon through the eye of a needle. Did this mean her spell on Angel was failing?

At least Willow got her information, and she didn't have to use magic for that (too bad). One question on Maes Hughes, and the custodian gave her a lot. His reputation, rank, family, address, everything. Seemed like a really nice guy. And he looked like Angel without the frowns. She wasn't so lucky about his murder. So far, the killer was never discovered or apprehended. Of course, that didn't mesh with Angel's words that it was some shape-shifter that did it. She suspected a conspiracy.

Another thing Willow learned was that Alchemy was big here. The power to transmute via circles must be easier to do here than magic. The reputation was different too. Back in her world, be a witch and you're either called a weirdo or freak. Here, be an Alchemist and you get cushy jobs. Still, Willow didn't like the rules of Alchemy, its demands, costs, and consequences. Magic did not have consequences, despite words on the contrary.

Walking out of the building, Willow headed to the gates. A lot of guards were there. "Identification," cried the guard.

"I don't have to show you any," Willow demanded, magic swirling in her.

The guard repeated her line. "She doesn't have to show anything."

"Can I go now?"

"Go now," the guard responded sheepishly. The others shared his passivity.  
Now safe, Willow fashioned her mind to call some people. Her only contact was Xander. He was the only one close by in her range. Angel and Spike were invisible to her, their telepathic presence as blank as their mirror reflections.

_Enterprise to Xander_…

Willow's mind found alien words. _Hey Will!_

Are you okay? Where are you? 

_About ready to meet Fat Albert._

Willow was puzzled.

_I'm in a garbage truck. _

_Oh_, Willow understood that part. Now she can try to understand why he was in a garbage truck.

_Can we put that in the don't mind-ask category? Just don't worry about me. You find Dawn and company before Spike and Angel do. I'll meet up with you, somehow._

_Okay_, Willow took that for his word, and contently got to the Tara-Dawn search.

* * *

Angel struggled in a closet, waiting for the sword wound to seal. He pulled out several bullets. Why not let these wounds stay open and die? This thought was attacked with a forced return to sanity. Willow's spell was really powerful stuff (he was beginning to wonder if there were any limits to Willow's power and her control), sending him to a new level of depression he ever felt before. His grief for Buffy didn't help. Angel forced himself to think of other things. So the head of state was some sort of demon! He couldn't enact the dance of revolution right now. He had to find Cordelia, Lorne, Dawn, and the others. 

Don't forget Maes Hughes. About time Angel thought about him. Has it been seven decades? The shock of his first evil act since his ensoulment caused a repression in memory, hiding its foul truth from his conscious mind. Only when Willow's spell hit him did that secret area open. He knew why. Even the experience with Lawson or Holland couldn't make this crime any less raw and painful. As if any of his crimes were any smoother.

Angel noticed these men recognized him as Maes Hughes. There was a resemblance. That's what peeved Angelus. Having a soul didn't make Angel a different person than his former self. He still knew, felt, and considered everything in the same way he did in his soulless days. Only now he suffered over such feelings and thoughts enough not to act on them. He remembered Spike sending him to this different world. Just like Pylea, the switching of dimensions messed him up. Here, it rendered his soul dormant. It wasn't removed; the soul still gave some heartburn, but its influence was no longer strong. He was Angelus again, with a vengeance.

And Hughes was the victim of his rage. This man was a reflection, reminding him of his humanity. Angelus didn't like to be reminded. He had suffered years of trying to act human, and here was this picture of himself as one! And a family man to boot! Angelus wanted that blotted out. He had to destroy it by destroying this 'twin's' humanity.

And here he was back to face a sin of his past. Would he kill another child of his? Like a father, Angel hoped for the best in his offsprings. Hughes was the first man he ever sired with a soul (okay, an inert soul, but different from nothing). Perhaps this made him different from Drusilla, Penn, and...

"_They look smaller."_

Lawson's remark came to Angel's thoughts, dimming the light. Nope. Didn't think so. Hughes was probably just a regular chip off the old block, killing innocents like the rest. Angel blamed himself for that. He found that only months had passed in this world since his last visit. Hughes had already done his crime. Then the sire would have to avenge the murdered.

If he can only get his act together! Angel realized he wasn't in the best rational state right now. He knew what coming back to this place meant. But Hughes aside, he couldn't abandon Cordelia. This was the second time; why can't that girl stay where she is, away from danger? She wasn't Buffy…Angel fought the oncoming flush of turmoil. No time for that. He had to save Cordelia and Buffy's sister Dawn.

No choice but to go. For that, Angel needed some leverage for this return visit. If taking a happy pill turned him into ensouled Angelus (whatever that means), than some depressing essence could give his inert soul enough juice to make him remain Angel. Willow volunteered for that one. So far her spell worked. He didn't feel the need to add negative and vengeful ideas to any feelings. His thoughts on Buffy's death did not come with the line _should've killed the bitch myself_. But the depression it gave was solid and overwhelming. He had to rely on 100 years of depression perseverance to keep going until...he became Angelus again. Will the spell last? In this world, who knows? Whatever the limit, it couldn't pass until his job was done.

* * *

He looked at the cafe mirror. He saw an old woman looking back. Envy liked seeing himself. He considered himself an artist, crafting his form to resemble other people. His original face was forgotten, despite some possible ideas. Actually, he preferred it so. The sight of it might shatter the mirror, by the force of his hand. His true form was too much a reminder of his background and what he lost. Right now in this cafe, Envy took the form of an old woman. It was a good resemblance to what was formerly Dante of the Forest. 

By all accounts, Envy was supposed to be in the North, standing by to start a war up there. But the news of Liore reached even to that distance. Pride's order to arrest the Elric Brothers furthered his suspicion on what happened to them. The possibility enraged him. So he abandoned his post and went back to Central. Those kids will come here soon.

Such a hopeful confrontation meant the gain of his vengeance, by the Master's consent or not. Now, Envy was no fool ignoring the consequences of disobedience. But surely she would forgive this transgression? After all, the Master loved him above all her minions. Not that old fart puppet controlling the country. Not that slutty human wannabe who garnered the responsibility of searching for the Philosopher Stone. Definitely not that homewrecking whore who bore those brats!

Envy saw his anger was making strong fingerprints on the café table. He had to control himself. The point is that he is the most treasured Homunculus to Master. He had to be.

The mirror showed a woman and child entering the café. Their faces struck Envy with familiarity. Then came the sparking realization. That was the wife and daughter of the late Lieutenant Colonel…whoops _Brigadier General_ Maes Hughes. Almost forgot the promotion Pride gave the dead man, Envy thought dementedly.

By his eyes, the woman seemed okay. No different from that photograph he used to take her form to kill her husband. She appeared displeased with a warrant posted on the wall. Pride sure didn't waste time enacting the Brothers' arrest.

"What is this?"

"Edward and Alphonse Elric," Envy recited the edict with an old voice. "Wanted. Suspected of Treason."

"Oh no," the mother's voice showed her shock. "This can't be true."

"Looks like it. Some nasty business in Liore."

Mrs. Hughes was not deterred. "There has to be a mistake. Those boys would never do anything horrible."

"Are they friends of yours?"

Mrs. Hughes nodded. "I believe in those kids. My husband believed in them. Why, if it wasn't for the Elrics, Elysia might not have been born."

The truth threw Envy's eyes upon the child. His attention became stuck on her. "So where is your husband?"

There was silence and sad faces. Envy was not disappointed. "Oh, sorry," he mouthed false sympathy in his old lady voice. "Men can be such pigs, leaving their wives and children for some young hot thing. I've had the experience too many times."

The child cried. "You're wrong…"

"Elysia." Mrs. Hughes sounded.

Envy faked more sympathy. "Oh, you poor misguided girl…"

"Shut up!" The child screamed her interruption. "My daddy would never do that! He loved Mommy and me! You're a mean an' stupid old woman!"

Recording that outburst in his mind, Envy took a foul glare. He did not like being interrupted or talked back, especially with such words.

"I'm sorry." Mrs. Hughes apologized for her daughter's behavior, but the tone of her eyes showed no tolerance for the remark about her late husband.

"Don't be. I was mistaken." Envy coldly left the cafe. Anyone who passed his female form would think nothing but seeing a gentle old woman. No one saw that pleasant face twist into something malevolent.

_Okay brat, you need a lesson about fathers!_

* * *

To be continued 

The Dawn faces Hughes scene will have to wait until next time. Also, the lovers reunite!


	5. Chapter 5

The Late General Hughes

Chapter 4: Dawning of an Encounter

By Claudius

I don't own FMA or Buffy or Angel.

* * *

Envy was not the only one watching Gracia Hughes and her child. Their presence at the café was also an interest to another. One as close to them and yet distant. Maes Hughes spied upon them from a dark alley across the street. He bundled up against the day, hiding in the shadows. On his luck was the sun being under a cloud at the moment. Still, he felt _very_ hot. One would think immortality meant invulnerability! Guess not, he thought. He watched alone, ignoring the possibility of those girls finding him.

"Y'know, stalking's illegal," a voice broke this solitude. Hughes snapped back to see Dawn behind him. A rather grim-looking Dawn.

"Since I spotted Mrs. Hughes and Elysia," the girl calmly explained. "I kinda got this idea that you'd be around."

"And that this dark alley would be the only place for me." Hughes sighed. He would be completely complimentary to Dawn's talents if he didn't find the idea of a mere child outwitting a creature like him a little humiliating. Still, he felt mostly respectful.

"So," Dawn continued. "Escape artistry among your talents?"

Hughes tried to hide his indignity. "There's a lot I know."

"If you wanted to go, you could have asked."

Hughes grumbled. "Evidently, being tied-up convinced me of the opposite." Besides, he had to eat, which might have made his situation even worse (even if the food in question came from animals). He slowed his defense. "I would have come back."

Dawn said nothing, looking unsure.

Hughes then went to another point. "Enjoying the roach motel?"

"Pretty sleazy," Dawn's feeling looked damper.

"Well, it's home to me. I don't live in a cave or crypt, if wherever vampires from your town live in."

"Actually, a lot of 'em would be living better than you." Dawn snorted.

Hughes then considered the girl's home. "Must be a really weird place you come from."

"It's a regular town, except for the vampires and monsters." Dawn was deadpan. "The place was built under a Hellmouth." A moment of silence led to her giving information. "That's some portal to a demon dimension."

Hughes nodded with lessened confusion. "Well, this place wasn't built under anything, but it has its share of weirdos."

The two paced to the other side of the alley. The heat bothered Hughes a little, but he can manage as long as he avoided exposure. "And your family?" Hughes made a lie. Lorne had told him quite a lot (with reluctance, forcing Hughes to sing the whole Amestris anthem to show his intentions). The revelation played in his head like a record. _Dawn's sister Buffy was a Slayer, a vampire demon killer..._

Dawn just glared at his question.

Hughes noted her reluctance, remembering more._ Her mother just died of a brain tumor…_

"Skip the interrogation," Dawn snapped. "Lorne told me everything."

Hughes gritted his teeth. "Doesn't mean you can't talk about it."_ There was a mystical Key that can open every barrier between dimensions. To hide it, some Monks transformed it into a teenage girl named Dawn. They also mind raped Buffy into believing Dawn had this prior existence as her sister…_The girl was someone Alphonse Elric feared he was. A sudden empathy for that kid and his brother surfaced. They were now considered Public Enemy No. 1. Dawn fared no better. _A hell goddess named Glorificus went after Dawn, wanting a ticket back home. Along the way, she did some major brain-drains on a lot of people. Tara was a victim... _What a nice chip the kid had on her shoulder! The size of a tank! Enough not to make her open to his words. Against this defense, why did he even bother? His consoling skills had gone to rust. No wonder, having not talked to anyone since he died.

Than Dawn screamed. "Sunshine!"

Hughes ran back to the middle of the alley, covering himself. Dawn transformed her words into a song: "On my shoulders makes me happy!"

Hughes bristled at this joke. This was no time for a song! Getting a dark smudge in his heart, he was about to confront her. A voice struck him motionless.

"Dawn," Garcia was heard at the corner, with Elysia in the background. "How are you?"

Dawn spoke. "I'm fine." She stepped forward into the street, causing her greeters to avoid what was inside the alley.

"Is Ms. Chase alright?"

"Yeah!" Dawn nodded. "No more headaches lately."

"That's good."

"If only our situation was," Dawn mentioned.

"Well, you're welcome to stay at our house."

Hughes could become the wall by the way he pressed himself against it. So many feelings danced in his head. They were so close. Stay away!

Garcia spoke more. "What's the matter Elysia?"

The child pointed to the alley. "I see s'body in there!"

Hughes cringed further at the discovery. He could imagine the girl's face…and her terror. He buried himself with his arms and legs.

"Oh, that's probably some old deadbeat bum looking for food," said Dawn.

Hughes rolled his eyes. _Thanks, Dawn. _There was no gratitude in that thought.

"Oh," Garcia understood. Hughes heard a bag rustling. "Let me see..."

Hughes tensed. Damn his wife's charity!

"Fine," Gracia said. "I'll leave it here." She laid an apple before the alley. And they were gone. If there was relief in Hughes, it fought with regret. They were so close…

Two minutes passed before Dawn came to him. Holding the apple in her hand, she didn't look happy.

"It's the light…too bright." Hughes whispered in the shadows.

"Bullshit." Dawn's whisper was venomous and condescending.

Hughes turned his eyes to her. "You'd want them to see me like this?" He shirked responsibility. "It wasn't my fault I became a vampyre."

"No, you'd be dead instead." Dawn now roared. "All because of your job, more important than your family." She stayed immobile as Hughes arose. "Yeah, Lorne told me that too."

"He should keep his mouth shut." Hughes towered before Dawn. Choose your weapons, girl! He claimed to himself. Hit me in the right way! Not very smart!

Dawn fumed her weaponry. "You knew your work was a ticket to becoming a tombstone. Why did you do it? Didn't your family mean anything? Guess not!"

"Now hold on!" Hughes grabbed Dawn by the arm. "Listen!"

But the girl threw the apple at him, shrugged her arm free. "Whatever! Your daughter blames herself for your death!"

A figurative bullet froze Hughes. All passivity died within him.

"See! That's what you get for being freakin' sacrificial. I hate you people!

And then Hughes remembered something else._ Glory kidnapped her and activated a portal that would bring on Armageddon. Dawn's death could seal it. Buffy, sharing the same physiology as Dawn, closed the portal herself…at the cost of her life... _

"You think you're protecting your loved ones, but instead you've left a hole in their lives."

Hughes honed his weapon. His face sank to an intense degree. Not vampiric, but very hostile nevertheless. A wounded animal can be very dangerous. His distance disappeared.

Dawn backed to the wall, brave to the last. Her distraught emotions peaked with a screech. "_A big, ugly, fucking hole!"_

Hughes grabbed her shoulders.

"Lemme go!" Dawn swung her arms to break free. She beat and beat upon Hughes' chest. What she didn't expect was Hughes' embrace. His grasps turned tender, palming her shoulder and back. Dawn continued her punches until her defiance shattered. Now all she had was tears.

"It's okay," Hughes hushed the girl's anguish.

Then came a pathetic whimper. "Why did she do it?"

"That's what older siblings do," Hughes spoke in a kind voice. "Protect the younger, even with their life. It's what your sister did. I did it."

Dawn stared blankly in surprise.

"I have a brother," Hughes revealed. "Figuratively speaking."

And then no other words were shared. Only their pain was communicated, faced and borne. Hughes wasn't plagued by any cruel feelings. What did plague him was this small burning on his chest. Dawn suddenly pulled back. Hughes' chest had a cross burn.

"Oops, sorry!" Dawn's attempt at casualness trembled in her emotionally flooded state. She covered her little cross-shaped medallion. Hughes awkwardly nodded. At least the hug worked. Guess he hasn't lost his touch.

The two sat in the alley side-by-side. Leaving will wait until Dawn felt better, Hughes decided. So twenty minutes passed by. Dawn regained some of her composure. "Um, Hughes, about what I said. Just a little mourning crazy."

Hughes understood very well. Dawn wasn't mad at him. She was mad at her sister and mother for dying, as if they hurt her on purpose. But she can't curse the dead. He was the next best thing. "Did you…" Hughes' paused with his words. "Did you...get to say goodbye?"

Dawn sighed. "Mom…no. My sister…" she slowed her words. "Gave me a big speech before taking a dive to save the world."

Hughes looked at Dawn with his usual amazement to her group. One can't say these kids led boring lives. The compliment was a defense to an issue inside him. Dawn's accusation opened up an old wound. It festered to the point he could ignore it no longer. Dawn wasn't the only girl who needed consoling. "I never really got to say goodbye to my little girl. I'm to blame for that one."

Dawn tried to be encouraging. "Elysia's as daddy-fetished as you're Elysia-fetished."

"Not making things better," Hughes was unmoved, growing darker in sadness. Elysia brought him a deeper guilt. Can't play the blame game this time. He remembered the factors of this problem. His final hours. Digging deeper into the Homunculus and their control of Amestris meant consequences. Deadly ones. He never was so scared in his life. Fear was hidden well...to a point.

"I was really mean to her...before I died." That's a pretty subtle way of saying it. He called her a spoiled brat. The little bitch couldn't stop asking him to get some stupid pink bear. She had her birthday a day ago. Enough was enough!

The brat's reply: _I hate you!_

Hughes proofread his self-labels. _Bitch? _That's the demon talking. Hughes swallowed that dark side with his human guilt. It wasn't Elysia's fault. He had no right dropping his frustrations on her. "She said she hated me. Those were her last words to me."

Dawn was stunned. "Why didn't you apologize?"

"I had some work to do."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Surprise, surprise."

Hughes couldn't protest. When he got his act together, the first thing he did was go apologize. But he found Elysia asleep. It was their last time together. He was human when he hurt his daughter. A monster now. Big difference. "It's my fault. Nothing I can change."

"Well," Dawn jumped to an alternative, ignorant of practicality. "Maybe you could…"

"It's too late." Hughes interrupted the advice with rejection. "I'm different now. I'll only make things worse." Seeing Dawn's disappointed face moved him. "Look, I'm sorry. If I found a way to say goodbye without scaring her, I'd do it in a second. But what can I do?"

Dawn stared at him. "Well…"

* * *

Returning to the boarding house led to a near-violent confrontation, a cease-fire, an explanation, and an idea.

"No." said Tara to Dawn's idea. She spoke this word with defiance, apprehension about abusing her magical abilities, sympathy over Dawn and the reluctance to hurt her in any way.

"Oh, and just as a reminder: forget it!" Cordelia added, lacking all those factors in her refusal to Dawn's idea. She was glad to learn Hughes didn't go Mr. Killing Spree, thus giving points to her optimism. But did she really hear the girl's plan as she heard it? Much to her chagrin, it was exactly how she heard it.

"C'mon," Dawn demanded. She looked to Hughes standing nearby, drinking some…'V-8.' He said nothing about her plan, which was a plus. But he kept his distance, though the fact that two of these girls were bearing crosses and standing at the sunlit window didn't give him any points. "Elysia blames herself for what happened to her father. The death part. This is the only way to give her some peace of mind."

"And maybe give Hughes a piece of her too?" Cordelia had killer in her words, turning to the objective. "No offense." As usual, she got a glare from her undead roommate. This was not just because of her distrust or resemblance to Gracia. There was also the very fresh image of Cordelia and Tara attempting to pounce him (Lorne just stayed away).

"If he did," Dawn protested, "he'd do it earlier. Hughes still owns the house."

That truth brought up another point to the girls. Since the house was still owned by a vampire, wouldn't that make it open house to every vamp?

Dawn threw her best weapons. Doeful eyes, a whole bunch of _Please, _and psychological warfare. "All I want is for Elysia to say goodbye to her dad. I didn't get to say goodbye to my Mom. Did you, Tara?"

That did the trick. Tara's reluctance eroded. With a sigh, she touched Dawn's hair.

"Then you'll do it?"

Tara reluctantly nodded.

"Am I the only crazy one here?" screeched Cordelia. "Because I'm not!"

Dawn pulled the same weapon on her. "Don't you wish Angel said goodbye to Buffy?" She quickly went silent, believing she made the stupidest persuasion attempt ever. Which meant a lot of surprise when Cordelia went into frustration, "Oh, fine!"

Dawn smirked. Hughes' glares became less glaring.

"But if he gives one vamp face to Elysia," Cordelia added. "You get the dustpan!"

* * *

Why did she get talked into this? Cordelia did splits in her head with this question. First she had a stake at Vamp Hughes' heart. Now she was his hairdresser. His do was to be the way it was before his death: short, spiky hair with the front curl. That way, his daughter can better recognize him. Cordelia knew this look too. She saw it in her premonition, very-DVD-clarity- accurate.

But as ever, Cordelia wondered if she was really calling the kettle black. Dawn defended the guy, and he seemed very passive. She herself defended Harmony…who was also passive before she turned on her. But Harmony didn't have a soul, as Hughes supposedly did. Maybe it was some gene in the Summers female that gave off some 'vamps play nice' effect!

Cordelia summed up the evidence of her experiences with the undead. How can helping a vampire go wrong? On one corner: Becoming the first course at the Harvest. Vampires attacking her countless times before Angel, Buffy, Doyle, Wesley, etc. came to her rescue. In the other corner: She applied bandages on a wounded Angel after he saved her from a vampire client. She painted Harmony's toe nails (before, again, she tried to kill her). She helped Angel. To her advantage: She bit one vampire in the hand. _See how you like it! _Staked another. And she still had her trusty taser in her pocket.

And yet, the more Cordelia saw Hughes, the more sympathetic she got. That led to some reinterpretation on her vision. She saw Hughes going vampy in a fight. She once had a vision of Gunn fighting. That didn't mean Gunn was a demon. He was in trouble. Did her vision mean that Hughes was in trouble? If so, then by what? Those Ho-Monkeys he talked about?

Such thoughts she kept secret from her customer. After washing off the dye, Cordelia began to snap off Hughes' long hair. "Don't know about the goatee. Unless you have some sorta quick hair growth power."

"I can handle that." The man was short word, especially to her. Cordelia understood the silence, thanks to what Lorne told her. Imagine it, he died because some shape-shifting Ho-monkey (was she pronouncing it correctly?) shot him in the form of his wife. That was a nasty thing to see. The last thing is your lover killing you. What if she had Doyle or Xander holding a gun at her? Angel…okay, she was used to that (and he wasn't even her boyfriend!)!

And then her customer gave some important short words. "Cordelia…I'm sorry." There was real conviction in those words. Very Angel-like.

Cordelia sighed. "It's okay. Still, just because you have a lot of angst, not to mention being evil demonic, doesn't mean you can't be a little courteous."

Hughes was slow on that reply. "I'll take that in mind."

The chance given, Cordelia tried to strike up a conversation. "So, demon conspiracy inside the government?"

Hughes made an icy warning. "Can we stay away from that?"

"Okay," Cordelia snapped in annoyance. "I thought since I've helped kill a demon mayor and overthrow some demon lords in another dimension, I'd give you some advice. Fine, have it your own way!"

"Fine!" Hughes growled. It took a few snips passed before any words were spoken again. The new one came from Hughes. "So, premonitions?"

"Yeah," Cordelia grumbled. "Nasuea-coma-inducing visions from higher powers."

"God hasn't made much contact these days." Hughes bled some pessimism. "So when it does, it hurts like a motherfucker? Figures."

"Hey, don't knock it." Cordelia spoke with pride. "I got these visions from someone."

"Without protection?" A grin enlarged on Hughes' lips.

Cordelia's eyes enlarged with irritation. "Do you want to cut your hair by yourself?"

Hughes sighed, removing smile and subject. A few cuts led to another point. "So, what is this Angel like?"

"A good dead guy. Handsome, noble, painfully shy, doesn't have any business sense, and you're pumping me for information, aren't you?" Cordelia instantly turned exposition into accusation. "Tone down on the demon empathy."

But still Hughes was curious. "So you're friends with him?"

"Yeah, and shoot down any other idea. I don't date dead people with liquid diets. Besides, he has a problem."

"Immortality, drinking blood?"

"Oh, I can handle that stuff," Cordelia shirked those nasty facts with an uncomfortable air. "It's just...he's a eunech." She jumped to those words with exaggerated conviction. "Vampires are eunechs."

She felt Hughes tense. The vampire looked down on himself.

"Not in that way!" Cordelia corrected herself. "I meant impotent!" The woman went silent, knowing she mentioned the most dreaded word to a man. On the other hand, if this vampire had a soul, does that mean he has the same escape clause as Angel? In that case, a little white lie won't hurt.

"Well, it's not like I can do that anymore." Hughes accepted this 'truth.'

Nearby, Tara plopped some plants and stones on the table. She sat before the window, its bright light upon her. Despite the brightness, Hughes noted her work. "Is that a spell you're cooking or are you just cooking?"

"A spell," Tara was serious.

Hughes understood. "So this magic really works?"

"Y-yes," Tara's words were hesitant. "We're lucky to have the right ingredients for this." Her luck did not show a forward willingness to be open. "My mom taught me."

"And Willow too?"

"Tell me about it," Cordelia interrupted. "That witch always gets people under her spell."

"Witch?" Hughes paused. "So, Willow's not a he?" Silence meant confirmation. "Oh."

"What do you mean by that!" Cordelia got all self-righteous. "You think you can be high and mighty! You're not exactly Mr. Decency, soul or not!"

Hughes frowned, making a very good Angel impression. "I meant _Oh_. Just _Oh_."

"Oh," Cordelia apologized with a little embarrassment.

"Thanks for the confirmation, Cordelia." Tara thanked her. "Anyway, I think it might work."

A lack of satisfaction on her face was not missed by Hughes' eye (considering that all he saw from the mirror were two women). "I take it you're not happy with your work."

"It's okay." Tara gave a little admission. "I just don't like abusing magic this way."

Hughes rolled his eyes, as if he heard the story before. "So there's been some experience?"

"Case in point, the spell that got us here," blabbed Cordelia.

Tara agreed with hesitance. "We were trying to bring back someone."

"From the dead?" Hughes gave a cynical smirk. Discomfort lined that smile as well. "I knew some people who considered doing that. Bad idea."

Tara looked like she was having trouble being on the opposite side. "Well, Willow really wanted to do this."

"But is it right?" Hughes predicted her ill ease.

"O-of course not," Tara agreed, then fell silent. She had problems being unanimous in that support.

"Did you ever tell this to Willow?" Hughes asked.

Tara struck an uneasy face. No more words escaped from her mouth. Leave that to Cordelia. "Oh, trouble in paradise?" She gleamed with curiosity.

"It's not like that at all," Tara protested. "We try never having an argument."

"Meaning you had one?" Cordelia pounced. "Details!"

Tara instead turned back to fixing the ingredients. Leaving Cordelia to resume cutting. Hughes wasn't finished, though. "Take it from a dead guy who knows," He spun some advice. "A lack of arguments can hurt a relationship too."

Still Tara gave no reply. Then came the last snip.

"There! All done, pretty as a picture." Cordelia praised herself.

Hughes rubbed his haircut. "Really?"

"Yeah, just look at the…sorry."

* * *

A reporter's draft for the Central Tribune…

_Two hours ago, a high-speed chase through the city ended tragically. A stolen limousine, belonging to General Hakuro, had plunged into the Hine River. No one else was harmed in the chase, save for several vendor stands and cars that got in the thief's way. The driver, reported to be a blond-haired man in a leather coat, is believed to have drowned. His body remains uncovered..._

Spike felt the waters filling inside him. He submerged deep within the Hine River. Immobile, only his brain moved. He meditated with such thoughts as: _How was he supposed to know a river lied before that blind corner? Buffy's dead. His favorite jacket soaked. Didn't even run over a single person. Buffy's dead. Life continued to suck! Buffy's dead…_

At least he had protection. The water above him kept the sun away. It also hid him from those sightseers. No present desire to come out right now. Just stay drowned until nightfall. It was a kinda romantic situation here. Like a lover's suicide to join his lady love. Only he has no air to suffocate.

But Spike's water-filled mouth tasted a little blood. Oaky blood. Oaky-tasting demon blood. Could be from Fancy Boy's green demon friend (not to mention Sex Pistols hater). He supposed this was a clue of sorts. Fine. As soon as he gets out, he'll track that scent and find Dawn. Unless something better comes up...

That came in the form of a little light. _Spike?_

_Get out of my mind, Willow. _Spike hated this communication from witch-girl. He should ignore her, but suppose she found Dawn?

_I think I found Dawn and Tara. _

See, at least one good thing happened today!

_They're at Maes Hughes' house._

Despite the water pressure, Spike attempted a smile. Uncle Scooby's house? So he didn't go Medea on his family yet! There goes that plan Fancy Boy promised (from, what, eight decades ago?)! Well, talk about killing two humans with one stone!

_I'm getting there myself._

Spike capped the rapport._ I'll join you later. Tell 'em I said Hi._

* * *

Envy followed Mrs. Hughes and her daughter. Many forms were made in his pursuit. As a constable, he watched the mother and child entered their house. He encircled the neighborhood several times in many shapes. In a boy's form, Envy saw the house gain some guests. That made the job a bit more difficult. A lot of suspicions were being raised to the Lieutenant Colonel's still unsolved death. More deaths meant more questions. But these doubts were trivial. Anger usually overwhelmed his better judgment. It gave no alternative in the Homunculus' mind. His primary thought was retribution for that snotty little girl. Rage not so much on the girl's attitude (though it helped) but on her defense for daddy.

Envy hated that. Boy, did Elysia need some learning! Fatherly love did not exist. That's why he took Mrs. Hughes' form when he killed her husband. Taking the daughter's shape meant another knife in the throat. Hughes' dotting daddy act was precisely that. An act. They say they love you, but if there was a choice between their life and yours, they'll dump you. Like _he_ dumped him…those brothers…

Ah yes, those bastards of _that _bastard. At present, Envy was not to harm the Brothers Elric. Stupid orders (though recent events in Liore might change that)! Fortunately, there was now a promising outlet for his fury. What a coincidence that this child was associated with the brothers! So they helped in her birth? Did they think of little Elysia as one of their achievements?

Envy thought of such evil for this 'achievement.' Everything those boys loved and accomplished…

Hughes waited for the sunlight to fade from his window. Soon night's fall would call him home.

A little poetic, wasn't he? Hughes remembered old pieces he learned from the academy. He used to like such things as a human. Should he still like them now? He should not, though truth be told, he still found such words touching.

But he thought those words to himself. No use letting greenie learn more of his life story.

Not that Lorne wanted to engage in any advising, considering the consequences.

Like the girls, he too was reluctant about Dawn's plan. It was like asking Elizabeth Taylor to croak "Send in the Clowns" again. And it meant standing around a guy who threatened him and knocked him out (and this happened after Hughes cut his head off!). Why did the girls leave him here? Sure, going with the girls back to Casa Hughes would give the Mrs. Hughes a clue about his real gender. But did he have to remain here with Angel's more touchy twin? It wasn't easy being green.

"Look, it's not that I enjoy being around you, which I don't." Lorne chanced the fates. "But can't we do something else besides wait here?"

"I did have a car," Hughes coldly replied, "before someone went opera on it."

"Vampires in dark, glass houses shouldn't throw bricks." Lorne sulked.

Without a song, Lorne could not know the vamp's thoughts. In truth, Hughes also suffered a doubt of confidence for what Dawn planned. Her idea was crazy and lacking in human sense. That he was doing it was testimony that he lacked such sense. One more proof of what he is now. It was either the best plan or the stupidest he ever followed (and he certainly had his share of dumb acts; thanks, Roy!). In this new perspective of his, did 'best' or 'stupid' carry the same meaning anymore?

Let's think: Here he was, entrusting in magic's existence so he can see Elysia again. Every part of him fought against this idea. Well, not the parts that wanted to turn his daughter into a midnight snack. Problem was, that desire was mixed with the up side of this plan: A chance to meet her one more time, to talk to her, to hold her. Was that a bad thing?

But complexity ever ruled these thoughts. What if he saw Gracia too? Hughes' dark feelings turned a resolve. Last night's nightmare was not far from his thoughts. Nor did he forget his behavior to Lorne, who looked like he didn't forget either. And after that, what? Resume this present nonlife, or follow a different nature?

Wait and see.

* * *

Gracia answered the ringing phone. "Hello?"

She received a voice. Somewhat muffled. "Hi, is a Darla there?"

"No, you have a wrong number."

"Oh, whose house is this?"

"This is the Hughes."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's okay." The call ended, Gracia hung up the phone. She went back to the living room with her new guests. Cordelia, Dawn, and Tara had decided to take her offer of staying for the night. This made Gracia wonder if she was being taken advantage of. Still, they needed her help. And they held their own weight. Right now the girls were entertaining Elysia in a tea party. They invited themselves, partaking in the lemonade 'tea' and cookies. Dawn and Tara were especially festive to Elysia. They all had lost a parent.

Gracia thought this party was worth a picture. Her late husband would agree. The girls complied to be taken by the camera. Cordelia tended to hog the picture from Dawn and Tara, not Elysia.

There came a knocking. "I'll get that," Gracia went to answer. It was a young woman. At first, she thought she saw Schiezska, but Gracia was mistaken. This girl was more assured and calm.

"Hello, I'm wondering if…" The caller's sentence was cut short by the entrance of Tara. "Nevermind!" She dashed into the house.

Gracia saw the two girls instantly lock eyes upon each other, drawing together with an excited embrace. "Tara…" The visitor brushed the girl's face, bearing tears in her eyes. Tara was in full reciprocation.

Gracia was touched…and then she saw the two girls kiss each other in the lips.

The two now faced her, looking embarrassed over their emotional reunion. "Um, Mrs. Hughes, this is Willow."  
"Pleased to meet you." Willow joyously greeted.

"Let me guess," Gracia kept her surprise hidden by a kind face. "You're gay."

Both girls went unashamed, but with understanding. "Look," Tara was nice. "It's okay if you don't want us here anymore."

"No," Gracia doused their fears. "That's all right."

"Willow!" Dawn joined the duo, getting between them arm to arm. Much was said.

"I thought I'd never find you." Willow spoke her fears. Tara was awed by such deep emotion. Gracia just smiled and stared.

"So who else is with you?" Cordelia asked.

"Xander, Spike, Angel."

"Spike?" Cried Dawn.

"Angel?" Cordelia took special emphasis on the last person. "So where are they?"

"We got separated. Long story."

Everyone gathered to the living room. Willow and Tara sat on a couch before Gracia and Elysia. Gracia noted every body language the two girls performed. It said a lot. She didn't subscribe to lesbianism, but she wasn't against it either. Besides, these girls fit so well together. It was cute.

"We're witches." Willow described herself.

Gracia felt ill. "Alchemists?"

"Witches. Big difference." Willow couldn't help snickering in front of Tara.

Gracia did her best to adjust to this more unusual fact. "So where do you come from?"

"Sunnydale," Willow spoke for the two of them. "Where we…handle a lot of puppies."

"Puppies?" Elysia spoke up.

Willow shook her head. "Oh you wouldn't want these puppies. They're very bad. They bite."

Gracia served some tea. "So you were friends with Dawn's late sister?"

And then the chipper light on Willow vanished.

"I-It's okay, Willow," Tara explained. "Gracia knows about Buffy."

Which part? Willow wondered. The Slayer or being dead?

Tara was very protective. "We like to keep Buffy's death a secret, Mrs. Hughes. If anyone knew, Dawn would be taken away to a foster home."

Dawn pulled the sad puppy look, though it was overshadowed by Willow's equally sad face.

"I understand…" A confused Gracia made the best of this situation. "Guess we'll have one more chair at the table." She got up and went into the kitchen.

"We're having a tea party with Elysia," cried Dawn "Wanna come?"

"Oh goody!" Willow went back to her infectiously adorable smile.

* * *

At the dinner table, Willow praised the cooking. Mentally, she spoke to the others. That is, they all had a conversation through thinking. Only the residents were excluded. Willow further explained that at present she knew nothing of where Spike, Xander, and Angel were around. But she each sent them a message to come to this place.

_It's like the whole gang's here!_ Cordelia chortled in her mental capacity. _Except for Wesley…and Gunn…and Giles… _

_Nice place you're staying at. _Calm at first, Willow became chipper with the real point. _Say, did you know Mr. Hughes is still around, in the only way he can still be around?_

Willow suddenly saw calm faces. Very knowingly calm faces.

_We know._ Mind-said Dawn. _We met him._ _He's visiting the house tonight._

Willow made a surprised face. From that, Gracia wondered if she added too much flour.

_He has a soul,_ Dawn explained.

Willow tensed (much to Gracia's disappointment). _Hughes has a soul?_ Didn't know that could happen. _He didn't say how he got ensouled? _Getting no answer, she was hesitant to give one. _Angel vamped him._

Dawn, Cordelia, and Tara moved their heads united. _Angel?_ They thought in union.

Willow nodded._ Yeah, that's one of the reasons he came. I guess since vampires make vampires, ensouled vamps make ensouled vamps. So why are you helping him?_

Dawn explained. _My idea. We wanted to give his daughter some peace of mind._

Despite the dangers, Willow emitted a comforted face. _Awww._

_So who's going to be the one to tell Hughes about this?_ She got silence. Dawn and Tara did stare at Cordelia.

_Someone better, because Angel doesn't know he's ensouled. He's out to fix things, namely him._

Cordelia thought about this._ My bet's on Angel._

_Cordelia!_ Smarted Dawn.

_Okay, okay_, Cordelia thought apology.

_So,_ Willow continued, _Anyone else notice a lot of 'other me's' here?_

_Yep!_

Gracia saw a lot of expressions going around at the table. It made her feel a little confused. "Is the food alright?"

* * *

At the end of the dinner, Dawn walked with Elysia. "So how are you?" She got silence and a sad face. "Stupid question." Instead she tried a more physical approach. She knelt to the girl. "I know. You want the happy times to come back, right? They'll come. I'm still waiting for mine."

Elysia looked at her with desperate hope.

"I lost my mom and sister. But I can't blame myself."

"Weally?" Elysia's due-bubbled eyes looked at Dawn.

"Yep. It's ridiculous to think so." Dawn mouthed her words. It was true that blaming oneself for another's death for no real reason was ridiculous. Then again, a girl composed from a magical ball belonged in that category too. Dawn hid this in her smile. "What you need is an older sister."

"I haf sisters," Elysia corrected Dawn. "Winwy and Schieza. They're gone."

Spirit arose on Dawn's face. "Well, count me in too!" She patted the child's shoulder. "So, I heard your birthday was a few months ago. What did you get?"

Elysia politely took Dawn to her room, showing off all the stuffed animals and toys her father gave her. With the child's back turned, Dawn snatched a ribbon from a dresser. She was becoming a pro at this.

* * *

A while passed as the sun dropped into the horizon. Show time for this vampire. Getting out of that carbon copy Reichstag, and evading the Gestapo was tough, but he liked tough. He received a message from Willow. The gang was at the Hughes house. A phone call to that house proved the family was still alive. Good.

The fall of night saw him at this lonely park. Where it began. There sat an old man on a bench. Both their eye caught each other.

"This walk used to be filled with people," said the old man. "But a man was murdered here months ago. Ever since then it's been avoided like the plague. The city is even putting up a petition to remove that phone booth over there."

An enlightened glance grew on the 'audience.'

The old man sighed. "Pity for that man to die so young. One should die very old. Take me for instance. I don't fear death. I'm ready."

"Really?"

The old man saw a monster smiling before him. The fright overwhelmed every motion within him. His heart stilled. That pause went longer and longer. Old man Mahell collapsed and fell dead. His witness just stood there. Surprised. Cheated. Angry.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

* * *

After dinner, Gracia went to her room. Another guest, she sighed. She might as well turn the home into a boarding house. Not a very bad idea. A better thought than Willow and Tara. She was uneasy about them. Not against what they did as a couple, but what they practiced. True, her late husband's many friends were Alchemists. Roy, Alex, Ed and Al. But there was also one bad Alchemist: Shou Tucker's betrayal of his daughter four years ago was not far forgotten.

Suddenly, these sad feelings fed into the darkness held under Gracia. She waited for certain times to embrace it. Right now, for instance. _Maes…_

And than Cordelia entered the bedroom. "Mind if I barge in?"

"Oh no," Gracia wiped her tears, metamorphosing from 'grieving-I can't-live-without-him' widow to 'strong-I will-survive' widow. "Please come in." It didn't cease to amaze her how much this guest looked like her. Not to mention, in a sad way, her better looks.

Cordelia spied around the room. "Sure got a pretty house here." In passing thought she wondered if this world had the IRS.

"Thank you," said Gracia. "So, Willow and Tara?"

"Yep." Cordelia shared the awkwardness, another similarity.

"You don't think right now they're…"

"Don't think, okay? I just ate."

"So you knew recently?"

"Yep. Before that, I was still placing Willow as _boyfriend_-_thief_. I still have the scar." Cordelia pulled her shirt up.

Gracia was astounded to see a scar on her abdomen. "Willow did that?"

"Actually, I fell off a stairway and into a metal bar, _after_ seeing Willow making out with my boyfriend. _Ex_-boyfriend. Same thing."

Gracia sighed. Time to change the subject! "Thanks very much for being Elysia's tea guests."

Cordelia showed the pleasure was hers. "I take it her dad did that a lot, right?"

Gracia nodded. "Maes even invited some officers several times to the parties. They didn't have as much fun as he did."

"And he must have had a lotta fun with you."

Gracia blushed despite its sad consequence. "I like to think so."

"Sure, he had to have seen your hotness." Cordelia and Gracia looked to the mirror. Despite the difference of a decade, their resemblance was strongly noted. "I know mine. I bet he saw me in you!" Cordelia kept her straight face. "And that didn't come out right."

"I know what you're saying." Gracia came under a vision of nostalgia. "Back then, though, I looked like quite the frump."

"I had a nightmare about that once," Cordelia also waxed in nostalgia.

Gracia turned to the picture on her dresser. It was of her wedding day. "I was just a nurse, and Maes kept bugging me for a date. I kept turning him down, not believing his intentions. But he converted me." She smiled with sadness.

This sadness scratched on Cordelia. Gracia really loved her husband. And Hughes…It was so unfair he held that Ho-monkey's trick against her. She didn't hold Angel's attempts to kill her against him…eventually. She leaned over, her wallet popping out of her pocket. The opening revealed a photo. The look of it made Gracia transfixed. She got some major explaining to do! "That's my friend, Angel. Major warning on any idea. I've known him for four years and there is no way your hubby had a double life."

"And who's the other man?"

"Wesley Wyndham Pryce. Another friend. See, two friends. _Just friends_. Did I mention the _friends_ part?"

Gracia appeared to have lost her hearing, very fascinated. "He looks just like Maes, before we married."

"Minus the depression lip right? Angel is the shy king of scowls."

"Well, Maes was no skinflint in the angst department either. Many of his smiles were fake. He suffered a lot...But I could tell when he smiled for real. And those were our happiest times." This resolution enriched Gracia. Fate may have taken the man she loved, but it couldn't steal what they had. Or what they have. Her spirits risen, she looked to the future. "Are you and Angel...?"

"We're friends," Cordelia defended herself. "I had a crush on him, but he had eyes on another." As well as being a vampire.

"Friendship is usually the best start." Gracia smiled.

Knowledge uneasily opened in Cordelia's brain. Yes, she and Angel did look like Hughes and Gracia. But…

"Don't hold back on love." Gracia graciously put some advice. "Life's too short."

"Enough with the matchmaking!" Cordelia gaped a smiling protest.

Gracia smugly nodded to the discretion. "Worked for me. And I got a beautiful girl. Elysia's so much like him." Her eyes became lost in thought.

"Yeah," Cordelia suddenly shared the memory of a lost one. "Parting gifts are nice."

* * *

Near midnight had come to the neighborhood. At the Hughes house, a window from the back opened. A flower was stuck on the sill.

In the home's front, Envy made his move. His steps were quick and discreet. At the doorstep, the Homunculus' slender form changed. Blue military garb now covered his scantily clad body. His round face grew long and chiseled, with whiskers lining his jaw. His long mop of black hair shortened, save for the spit curl over his new hanging forehead.

Only the sinister smile gave clue of his true identity. Hughes' daughter shall learn the terrible price of loving her father...

* * *

Elysia Hughes awoke in her bed. Her thoughts danced so much she couldn't sleep for long. Now awake, she thought a lot. The house had a lot of girls now. That one who looked like mommy, the two girls who held hands a lot, and Dawn. Why did she feel lonely with so many in the house? Company couldn't overwhelm a hurt heart. Would the pain ever go away?

The girl's young mind was bright, but sadly misguided. It was her fault daddy went away. She cried that she hated him, and daddy never said goodbye. Such thoughts troubled her every night. She wanted to sleep and dream of the wonderful man and tell him how sorry she was.

"Elysia…"

The child's small eyes slowly opened. She saw the shadows of her toys making black things. Dark, full of scary things. She wished her mommy stayed with her tonight. She might go to mommy's bed right now.

"Elysia…"

The girl saw the voice coming from the dark. There was a new shadow, bigger and giant. A strike of fear threw the girl back into her bed. She covered herself in protection from the evil things outside.

"Don't be afraid."

Elysia heard that voice before. Fear was conquered by curiosity. The blanket came off her face. The light through the window showed part of a man. The darkness could not keep him from her recognition.

"Daddy?"

* * *

To be continued

Envy wants to harm Elysia...

No Alchemist is going to stand in his way...

Instead, it's up to vampires, lesbian witches, a Pylean cafe host, a human manifestation of a mystical key, and Cordelia Chase to face the first Homunculus. Oh boy, someone's ass is going to be kicked!


	6. Chapter 6

The Late General Hughes

Chapter 5: General Hughes, I presume?

By Claudius

* * *

Mrs. Hughes and her daughter had gone to bed, presuming the others had done also. Yeah right.

Upstairs in the Hughes house, Dawn roamed the long corridor, unnoticed by everyone. For once, she allowed her anonymity. She wasn't the priority right now, even if that priority was her plan. Elysia is going to meet her father again, even if it was going to be goodbye. The pleasure of bringing that child some happiness did not save Dawn from some personal weakness. At least Elysia still had her family. Dawn's own Dad may be absent too, but her own mother is really dead. Buffy too. Oh well. Dawn made that reassurance with the levity of stone.

She wandered near her hostess' bedroom. When last looked, Mrs. Hughes was asleep in her bed. Dawn's direction turned to the next door: Elysia appeared to be equally asleep. A little farther, along a balcony above the hall stairs, were the guest rooms. In one, Tara and Willow were making their major spell, though not without argument. Tara had doubts about using magic to force people into doing something. Willow cheerfully argued this spell was 100% completely not wrong. They weren't forcing people to fall in love or become slaves. They were just giving nature a little nudge. If storm clouds were coming, then what was so wrong about making it rain sooner? As usual, Willow got her way.

And now it was time for Mr. Hughes to make his appearance. Since the house was still his, he could enter it any time he wanted without an invitation (and so can any other vampire). Dawn heard footsteps to the other side of the hallway, far back to the kitchen stairs. There came Cordelia and…Hughes? Dawn paused at his entry. This wasn't part of the plan. She had made sure Elysia's window was unlocked, only to see Hughes take the back door! But there was no time to complain, so she kept quiet and got to the fulfillment of their plan.

Hughes looked nervous. His jaw was covered with marker lines. If that was supposed to be hair, he better keep the lights off.

"Ready?" She whispered.

Hughes shook his head in silence. But he entered his daughter's room nevertheless.

* * *

"Elysia…"

The child's small eyes slowly opened. She saw the shadows of her toys making black things. Dark, scary things. She wished her mommy was with her in bed. She might go to her bed right now.

"Elysia…"

The girl saw the voice coming from the dark. There was a new shadow, bigger and giant. A strike of fear threw the girl back into her bed, covering herself in protection from the evil things outside.

"Don't be afraid."

Elysia heard that voice before. Fear was overwhelmed for curiosity. The blanket came off her face. The light through the window showed part of a man. The darkness could not keep her from recognition. "Daddy?"

The man nodded, sitting on the bed.

All fear vanished from the child's heart. Elysia flung herself onto her daddy's stomach. Her embrace was accepted by his big arms, which wound tightly around her. Perhaps a little too tight. But her daddy was strong, and it is her daddy! Not buried in ground but with her! She gave a flood of words. "Oh daddy!/I'm so sorry, daddy!/I don't hate you!/I love you!/I don't really want that Bear!"

One arm was released, its end planted on the girl's soft head. "Look at you. You've gotten so big."

Gracia was surprised at her father's kind face. "Daddy, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you go away."

She expected anger. She got nothing but joy. "You're not the one who's sorry, sweetie. Your daddy was awfully mean yelling at you. Do you think you can ever forgive me?"

"Yeah!" Elysia squeaked out loud. She had found a new wonderful day that eclipsed the other ones. Her happiness protected her from the sad eyes upon her father. "Does mommy know?" She began to break free to inform her.

"Ssh!" Hughes asked in a whisper.

The child paused. Her happiness hit a block! "Why daddy?"

Hughes' lips trembled, trying to say something. But he finally said it. "I have to go away again."

Elysia's smile fell. "Won't ya come back?"

Hughes folded his lips. Their opening was negative. "No."

"No…no!" Inside herself, the girl grasped for something steady from this horrible mess. She couldn't find it. Outside she grabbed the only thing. "Don't go! I don't want ya to go away! I'll be a good girl! Wait an' see!"

In close embrace again, Elysia didn't see the face above her, its mask falling apart. The calm face was gone. Eyes lids crushed against his cheeks, flowing out water. "I'm afraid it's not my choice. Nothing else could keep me from you."

"But I love you, daddy."

"Ditto. But I still have to go. You have to be a strong girl for your mother now. Please look after her…for me."

Even for a child, Elysia's bright mind made her understand these words she didn't want to hear. "But who's gonna look after me?"

And in that tortured male face of her father, strong eyes glared from their wet-stained lids. "I will. Even though you won't see me, don't forget that I will always be there in you."

Elysia held tight to her father, in the unfortunate crossroad of accepting goodbye or refusing it with all her heart. Suddenly she began to feel very sleepy. She resisted but for a moment. Her arms slowly fell from their points of affectionate attachment. She would fall too if not for her father's secure embrace. Now it was Hughes' turn to let go. He didn't. The time came again. Still he refused to let go. Even though his experience showed life as unfair, the thought of leaving his child was a new precedent to that rule. There had to be another way! Knowledge snapped inside his gloomy state. If what Dawn said was true, then maybe Elysia can be with him forever…

And never grow up? To never find love and have children of her own? To never walk in the sunlight ever again?

Finally, Hughes gave all his strength against the darkness that fueled his departure from his daughter's life. Slowly he broke the embrace. He lifted the child back into her bed, pulling the covers over her. He lowered his head, sickened by the very thought sprung from a saddened heart (and his new nature). "Bye bye, Elysia." He kissed his daughter's forehead; a cold kiss made by a warm heart.

Cordelia was in the room during this scene of farewell. She looked cautious. Hughes glared accusation at her. For her suspicions, and its convictions. "So this spell…it's now working?"

"Sure. Both your wife and child are sound asleep." Cordelia gave a whispery assurance. Through hair samples, Willow and Tara cast a sleeping spell on the owners. "Nothing will wake them up until morning. Permit me to demonstrate." She let out a big voice. _"The Greatest Love of all, is happening to me..."_

The off-key singing stunned Hughes and his sensitive ears. Gracia wasn't exactly a singer either.

"Stop singing!" Dawn yelled in her entry. "It's Gracia!"

All three ran into the hall to see Gracia on the floor, motionless but very living. Maes came first to her side. Before he realized the dangers, he gave her his usual touch. Nothing wrong, save for a lack of consciousness.

"She came to me, asking why I was up," Dawn explained. "Then she got silent. I think she heard you."

Maes tensed at the possibility averted.

"Well, Willow and Tara's spell saved us." Cordelia gave a confident air. "We'll carry her back to her room, and she'll think the whole thing a dream."

Before the girls could react, Hughes scooped Gracia into his arms.

"Hold it!" said Cordelia.

"I can handle it," Hughes said.

"That's not what I meant…"

"_I can handle it."_ Hughes gave a sharp repeat. That was the end of the argument in his view. He walked to the bedroom with his wife delicately held in his arms. Dawn led the way, opening the door. Cordelia followed, clutching her Tazer. They watched as Hughes brought his wife to the side of the bed.

Maes arose to his feet, immersed in thought. It seemed beds were always important for him and Gracia. The sickbed when he first saw Gracia (as best he could despite his once-limited vision). The bed they picnicked on in his apartment. Each further bed they used (whether for sex or not) increased their feelings for each other. But in the end, he didn't die on a bed but at a telephone booth, thanks to a bullet drawn by someone with this woman's form…

Hughes remained standing before Gracia, an actor to a sleeping audience. And what a speech to give her! He wanted to say the worst things, condemn Gracia for making him her slave, for weakening him, for leading him to his death. But her smell stopped him. Her sleeping beauty stopped him. The memories they shared stopped him. And the feelings he still felt, despite all the rage, the bitterness, and the betrayal he received for it. Not Gracia's fault.

"I'm sorry, honey," Maes let out a voice that showed a man very much in love.

And with that as a final answer, Maes Hughes turned away and left the room.

Cordelia kept her serious watch. That was all anti-climactic. Not that she wanted an ending straight out of a horror flick, of course, but how about another kiss? She gave Hughes her stubborn, authoritative look. He responded. "You don't look a thing like her."

Cordelia paused. "Thanks, I think."

Maes turned away from the hallway. A back stairway that led to the kitchen became his path. Dawn followed. It was a slow movement. Maes would leave a place that meant so much for him. More memories followed. The day he presented the house to Gracia. The stairs that he climbed, carrying his new wife. The bed he shared with her, wearing pajamas (or nothing at all). The dining room table he celebrated parties, reunions, and birthdays. The couch where he first met Elysia. The birthdays, the anniversaries, the times of fun, of happiness, of pain and enduring love. But it is a place for the living now. New memories will be made here, but without him.

He heard singing. His own voice.

* * *

Lorne sweated in the living room. He couldn't help repeating Murphy's Law. Dawn's plan had every chance of becoming _Godfather Part III_. Let's see: Maes could freak out his daughter, causing Mrs. Hughes to come in and get equally freaked out, leading to some awkward situations that Noel Coward could never dream of. Or Maes could take out all that anger on his wife…

This demon really needed a Sea-breeze, but apparently the Hughes kitchen took its advice from Mother Hubbard in terms of ingredients. Okay, so what is so wrong? The Sea-breeze was half-full too. He trusted Hughes, as much as one could trust a vampire who beheaded him and knocked him out. The guy was just a confused vampire, another Angel. Only _this_ Angel used him as a punching bag for those confusions.

And then singing attracted his ear. A good voice. As he came closer, confusion came to Lorne's horned head. Hughes was supposed to be upstairs. But unless his demon eyes were lying, there stood another one in the front hall! From his hiding place, the Pylean took study of this twin. He sang some lullaby, showing him to be in a good mood. Too bad Maes Hughes never thought about a career in showbiz!

The mirth ended when Lorne caught the figure's soul. He knew everything. With a chilled resolve, he retreated to the shadows. Leave this to the others.

"Lorne?" an approaching Dawn asked. She too shared his sight and confusion at this stranger. Not so the Hughes with her.

Lorne shushed Dawn as silently as possible.

* * *

Lorne and Dawn remained hidden from the stranger's view. Cordelia was not so lucky.

She saw Maes Hughes come up the stairs. Forget something?

But female intuition demanded her discovery of something off with this visitor. This Hughes wore different clothes, had a much better beard. And the reflection on the mirror didn't hurt her suspicions either. All the puzzles fell into place. Her premonition was coming true.

Pod Hughes spotted her. "Hiya, dear." He waved his hand and glinted a smile.

Hearing this, Cordelia decided to play the part. "Oh honey! I thought you were dead."

"Nope," This Hughes bent his head with wonder. "You don't seem convinced."

Cordelia increased the cheer. "Oh of course, I am! Why, you're as real to me as this reflection!" She pointed to the mirror with a smile. "And what a nice reflection it is! Let's go downstairs and talk."

'Hughes' protested. "Hold it. Let's talk here."

Cordelia gulped any fear and waited for the payoff.

"Give me a hug!"

"I…don't think so," Cordelia mixed mirth in her refusal.

'Hughes' arms lowered. "What's a matter?"

"You know me," Cordelia bubbled for nonchalance. "It's the time of the month. Let's go back downstairs."

"But dear," his gentle voice carried an iron to Cordelia's ears, along with the vise-like grip to her arm. "Let's talk now."

"Um, sure!" Cordelia agreed.

'Hughes' snorted his nose. "So compliant. Figures." His empathic face became darker. Not vampire-darker, as Cordelia noted to herself, but Angelus-in-human-face-darker. At least this wasn't Angelus talking to her.

"Yes, dear?" Cordelia obediently agreed, still playing the part.

"You always were worthless."

"I suppose," Cordelia backed away in catering to this impostor's words.

"Always doing what I said," he snickered contemptuously. "Humiliating yourself for me. Ironing my underwear. What a bitch."

In a snap, Cordelia stopped acting. "Excuse me?" Her temper rocketed.

"My bitch." 'Hughes' lips devilishly pronounced his words.

"Now listen to me…" Cordelia mimicked his tone with equal cruelty. "I'm not some Stepford wife here. Bitches got more respect than that, and I'm one vicious bitch! You know what, you're not my husband at all. You must be one of those morphing demons. Y'know, the ones who take other people's forms to hide their own loserness!"

'Hughes' smile became crooked, his grip tighter. Cordelia maintained her posture. Okay, so dressing down the monster won't work this time. So she thrust the Tazer straight into 'Hughes' arm. Its zap contorted him all the way down the stairs. Then Cordelia fled the opposite direction and to the guest room. "Elysia, stay in there!" She made a quick and loud lie. She slammed the door with hopefulness of distraction. Wait until this Mighty Morphin Demon Ranger gets a load of the untold power of Willow!

That was her thought, unfortunately, when she found Tara and Willow fast asleep. "Hey, guys, this is no time to take five! We got a demon for you to zap!" Cordelia tried to pull the dresser in front. The noise of her voice nor the sounds of the moving dresser did nothing to alert the two sleeping lovers.

By now, the Homunculus wore off from the stun. Little insect had a stinger. The insect will soon perish. Serpent-like, the Hughes impostor leapt a great height to the balcony. His hands spread around the door's wooden frame, aided by a creepy smile that promised retribution. "Let me in, honey!"

"Is that the best you can do?" Cordelia cried. "No shape-shifting demons allowed!"

"Shape-shifting demon?" 'Hughes' pretended insult. "Well, perhaps I am." Though disguised, the impostor spoke in true character. "Yes, I'm not really your husband. He's dead. I saw to that. Y'know, he begged me for his life!" Each word gave a mirth that could chill the hearts of any human. "Oh what pathetic words the worm gave me. _'Please, Please_…"

"Forgive me, but I have a wife and daughter waiting for me back home."

A voice out of nowhere, 'Hughes' eyes popped like a blossoming flower. He turned around.

And thus two personas bearing the form of Maes Hughes now met. One surprised, the other calm on the surface. One wore a military uniform, glasses, and a convincing beard. The other had only the glasses. He wore above his pants a wifebeater-undershirt. Old scars sprouted from his exposed skin, with his chest bearing a ghastly wound that once felt a bullet. He toted his push-knife, "General Hughes, I presume?"

A knife materialized in the impostor's hand. He lunged out his attack. His real one parried the blade with his own. Another attack was equally blocked.

"You're really off on the impression." Hughes disarmed his opponent of weaponry. But the impostor let out a quick lunge of his foot that sent the Vampire back. The Homunculus-Hughes' face increased in ugly destruction. His knuckles produced three knives.

Stunned by this sudden ability, Hughes still avoided each weapon's flying deadliness.

"Homunculus?" 'Hughes' darted to his model's direction.

"Not quite," Hughes jovially fought back. The impostor instinctively backed away in avoidance. But the dodge was specially made against a human, and Maes Hughes was more than that. 'Hughes' realized that error via a quick, powerful punch to the face. With further use of new strength and speed, the real one clutched his doppelganger's neck. Blazing emotions showed in his face: A sagging brow, yellow eyes, skeletal cheeks, animal teeth, and an animal's roar.

Surprised at this expression (among other things) 'Hughes' transformed as well. His legs reeled back in the space before his opponent. Their release thrust Hughes to the wall. The vampire quickly shrugged off his own injury. He raised his eyes and saw the Homunculus' new form, just like Edward's description: Long, wild hair held up by a headband atop a leaner, scantily clad form. He is Envy, the shape-shifting Homunculus.

Envy gleamed a sinister smile that showed the cruelty in his heart. "What third-rate alchemy brought you back?" Envy's preferred form smugly stood before his victim. "You're still too sickeningly human."

"Thanks," Hughes readied for another stance with his knife. But Envy changed his form again.

"Remember me, dearest?" worded someone that to Hughes was beauty itself. Actually, it was the form of Cordelia Chase, but it was a close resemblance despite earlier words to the contrary. And Hughes found himself frozen again, vulnerable to 'Cordelia's' deadly kick. He flew from one side of the hall to the other.

"As fucked up your face is, I can still see that despair." The shape-shifter's amused recollection grew louder as he came closer. "How will your wife's face look? Perhaps I shall tell her why you died."

Hughes shied away from his opponent's appearance. No one else shared his reluctance. One person watched with venomous eyes that demanded retribution.

"Hear me, Mrs. Hughes!" He cried out. "Your love killed your husband!" The Homunculus' mouth enlarged for laughter.

"Leave them alone…" Hughes spoke words in whispered growl. He faced his murderer, new facets coming on his demonic face. "One finger on them…" his fanged mouth flapped dangerously, "I'll kill you!"

And the laughing stopped. What did Envy see in those eyes? The evil within Hughes' soul? The desperate but determined fury of a father? A combination of both? Whatever the change, Envy suddenly felt intimidation. Already in disguise, he hid such fears with bravado. "Really? You and what army?"

"Me!" Cried Dawn, intervening between the two beasts with a poker.

'Cordelia' laughed again. He came to a sudden stop, followed by an inconceivable affliction flooding his entire body; the agony so strong that it stiffened him completely. This followed by Dawn's crushing blow.

The Homunculus staggered to the floor, getting more assaults by Dawn. Hughes poured all his strength to pull her away from the danger. But Cordelia entered the fray. The Homunculus rattled by her Tazer's touch.

"Let me go!" Dawn struggled.

"No way!" Hughes carried on. "Monsters and kids don't mix."

"That's a Ho-monkey, right?"

"Homunculus," Hughes corrected.

Meanwhile, Envy received the full wrath of Cordelia. "Get…Off…My…Face!" Her assault sent him to stagger, quiver, and curse. These blows hurt. They really hurt. But the affliction ceased. He could move again. His bottom torso twisted upwards with legs rotating like a wheel, knocking Cordelia off her feet. The Homunculus was on his own standing in seconds. With renewed glee, Envy's disguise expressed abominable things never thought possible by the face of Cordelia (at least in Cordelia's view; Dawn and Hughes thought Envy made an accurate interpretation).

"Stupid insects have lost their bite." 'Cordelia' disappeared back into Envy's preferred form, death his intention. Cordelia spotted her Tazer at the other end of the hall. Dammit! She began to crawl toward the guest room.

Envy walked after her, able to outpace his victim. He still felt pain on his back, but it was no worse than the earlier agony. Before he began to recognize the reason, a poker protruded through his neck.

"Good aim!" Dawn spoke of Hughes' throwing ability.

But it appeared the impalement only served to bother Envy, not bring him down. He pulled the bolt out. "Ugh…T-That didn't work last time, Hughes."

Dawn got nervous. "So, Maes, do you have any idea how to kill a Ho-monkey?"

Hughes jerked his face to his surprisingly unknowing ally. "I thought you knew!"

"Nothing kills a Homunculus!" cried Envy in robust health. "I'm immortal!"

"Just like the Master, like Mayor Wilkins." Cordelia arrogantly made her corrections. "And we made their immortality shorter!" She got Envy's full attention. "Um, when I said 'we,' I meant I just watched."

Envy came closer to Cordelia's slow retreat. He looked ready to stomp a bug. His speed, however, was too late for a string of lightning that blasted him to the other end of the hall.

From the guest room,Willow came out. Eyes blackened, wind blowing through her hair. Her movements lacked any contact with the floor.

"So this is the famous Willow," Hughes found his watch grow with awe and fear. This girl resembled Schieszka.

Envy tried to make clarity of his jumbled sense of mind and body. What, another Alchemist?

Even Cordelia was impressed by Willow's sudden elevation in the last two years. He (or she, whatever) was in for it now! The woman chortled in vengeful righteousness. Envy was going to get the bibidi-babidi-boo!

And then Willow collapsed. At that, Cordelia let out a forced giggle, reinforcing her victorious poker face over such a poor and predictably tragic change-of-events.

"Wow," Envy claimed. "That went nowhere." He was at full standing again. "Now it's my turn."

"Really?" Cordelia replied half-heartedly at her position for the Homunculus' attention.

Quickly Envy found himself in a headlock. Will this freak ever give up?

The Homunculus now in his control, Hughes flung the both of them off the balcony. The impact was unavoidable, nor was Hughes lucky with the wooden handrail he crashed through in destruction. A spoke found its way through his shoulder blade, very close to his heart. But such weakness did not deter Hughes' hold with Envy. "You won't kill anyone again!" screamed a 'Grrr' faced monster that bore a compassion his kind severely lacked. Twice supernatural fists pummeled the Homunculus.

"I'll do what I want!" Envy pulled most of his body free. His feet rammed upon his captor for complete freedom. Kicks that hit like a sledgehammer fell on Hughes, his face muscles getting pounded out of place. "And you can't do anything!" The Homunculus cackled wildly, proceeding in his foot assault. How long will this worm bother him? Until his daughter is safe?

Thinking that thought, Envy's stamping grew intense.

He then became aware of another presence in this room. A green man with horns. This man backed in protest. "Oh, hi there!"

"Hi, yourself." Envy stopped his torture, moving closer. What a funhouse this place is!

"Uh, bye now!" Lorne turned. His escape found Envy blocking the way.

"And what are you?" Envy was curious.

Lorne tried to be inviting. "Oh, you wouldn't want to hurt a harmless demon like me?"

Envy grinned like a happy child. Definitely not out to make nice.

Lorne tweaked his collar in desperation. "Hey, we can get along can't we? Demon to demon? I mean…we both come from the same tree. Lousy family life…"

Envy's happy face dissolved. A meek Lorne set out for a line of recovery. "But I understand! Sure, so your father Hohenheim abandoned you! Sure, he had those two other sons …and this isn't working, is it?"

Envy's face drained into a meaningful glare. "How do you know?" Each word gasped with a care of violence. Lorne made his own gasps.

"So that's why you're called Envy," The bruised Hughes cried out, getting attention (Allowing Lorne to go straight out of sight). He attempted a calm voice. "Never sing before a Pylean demon, idiot. So…Hohenheim…That's a rare name around here…are you an Elric brother too?"

"The first." Envy proudly scowled at his family station. "And I'll remain the only one, after I destroy those bastards and everything they've brought to this world!"

"Like my daughter?" Hughes' tact faded, creating a face that rivaled the Homunculus in spite. "You hateful bastard."

"Spare me the fatherly love," Envy shrugged, undaunted by this paternal display. "If you really cared for your child, you should not have meddled in my business."

Hughes swamped with pain both in mind and body. But concern for pain was short before his familial instincts. What Envy said was true. But it came from an abandoned child who refused to understand. If he didn't hate the Homunculus with every bone in his body, he would feel sorry for him.

"Like your dad never meddled in yours?" Hughes made do with some resourcefulness. He pulled himself back up, pain filling like electricity. "That explains all the transforming. Can't deal with the real you?"

"I don't remember…" snapped Envy.

"Can't or don't wanna?" Hughes' cruel human face could be a good model for Envy to use. "I think it's the latter. Poor Hohenheim. You for a son."

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Envy roared his wish defiantly. He now will commit his wish. He dived his foot mightily. Hughes could not avoid it.

But the kick was interrupted. The front door came open. A figure darted into the scene. Envy saw this and took care.

"Hullo," said the figure in black. His wardrobe and blond hair resembled Edward Elric, but he was much taller. "Miss somethin'?" His words were excited; his tone the opposite.

Hughes studied him with his pain-addled eyes. This newcomer resembled Kimbley, but with a despair the Late Crimson Alchemist could never give.

Envy was up to his own tricks again, looking like Cordelia again.

"Please save me!" 'Cordelia' cried. "That monster looks like my husband!"

Hughes growled again.

"Don't worry missy," Spike touched the woman's shoulder, promising safety. He felt something wrong with that, and it wasn't from himself. But he did face the vampire. "Spike!" cried the voice of Dawn, approaching the room. "She's a demon!"

"Run!" a staggered Hughes cried for the poor fool.

"Feck off!" Spike thrust toward the vampire, but he made a soft (ever so soft) elbow jab at the 'woman' behind him. Nothing.

Spike now turned to the 'woman.' "You ain't human." His discovery turned with a jerking squirm, as a long blade ripped through his chest.

"So what?" The 'woman' changed faces, bearing happiness over his first murderous act this night. "Of course I'm nothing like you!"

Hughes tensed at Envy's new victim. Dawn was indifferent as she pulled the spoke off his back.

Envy's eyes glared upon his witness, his blade hand closing away from its prey. Now he walked over this victim and to his new ones. "Now where was I…?"

"You are about to get your ass kicked." Dawn expressed righteousness.

"I've had enough of your attitude, child," Envy used a calm voice this time. Didn't mean any quarter, though. One step closer and he froze, feeling the affliction again.

Also for the second time he heard a voice from behind. "I'm not human eyther."

Reaction was slower than Spike's fangs ramming straight into Envy's neck. Now it was Envy's turn to cry. He had a shared guest in that horror. Hughes' nerves danced at this sight. And that face this Spike gave. And yet, all that red blood…

Envy jabbed Spike off before he got company. He clutched his wounded neck. Was this beast actually drinking? That was a stupid question.

"Bleah!" Spike made some revolting spit takes. "Here, what kinda blood is that?!" He spit again. It wasn't even the oaky taste Lorne had.

"That's a Ho-monkey!" cried Dawn.

Spike got the true idea, but it sounded good. "Didn't know Hos had monkeys!"

"Homunculus, you worm." Envy removed his hand from the wound, now completely healed. He lurked around his opponent, studying him. The latter stood tall and proud, ready to rumble.

"I'm a Vampire," Spike demanded correction. It wouldn't change the fight at any case.

"I really have no time for a freak like you," Envy spoke with boredom. "I have to kill that freak's daughter."

"Really?" Surprise opened Spike's face. "Can I watch?"

"Spike!" Dawn shouted.

The light dimmed from Spike's face. "'Right," he spoke dimly and unconvincingly. "You shall kill her over my…whatever."

"Okay," Envy smugly skipped his brutal dance. "I'm so over you worms!"

"Same here," Spike was indifferent. "You included."

And Envy found a punch to his face, with the hitter swinging around to throw another punch.

Envy ran his foot. Spike's clasps of hands blocked it. This clasp reversed to serve the Homunculus a haymaker. Spike than threw his leg. His weapon fell victim to his foe's grip and contempt. So this worm thought himself a master of foot combat? "Pathet-…"

Envy didn't finish that line as Spike rotated himself, giving Envy a taste of his other boot.

The Homunculus recoiled and lurched like an animal on guard. "Nice trick," Envy rubbed his cheek and bloodied mouth. He was pleased. It had been centuries since he really could fight someone. He moved to somersault. But his leg got grabbed. By Spike's control, Envy hit the table face first. The novelty was fast going away.

Spike leapt. Envy spread and closed his legs like scissors, pinning Spike's neck. The captor swung his captive's head to the floor. Spike felt pain, but he accepted it. Maybe this will jog that bloody chip out of his brain. However, a few more repeats of his head being a ram convinced him to reject this plan.

"You're no fun!" Envy gleefully made his critique.

"That's because it's me who should be having it!" Spike grabbed both of Envy's feet, giving them a quick twist. The headlock was broken as Envy temporarily shirked from this injury. With anger did he kick Spike backwards, but the vampire had grappled his skirt when it happened. He was still holding it in his distant position. The next thing he saw crushed his mouth in suppressed laughter.

Envy grew enraged at this mirthful response. "What's so funny, worm?"

"Nothing, Ken." Spike staggered in laughter. It was unconvincing, but the impact was potent.

"Don't laugh at me!" A savagely distraught Envy began to pounce.

Spike faced the assault without cowardice. He felt a long wooden beam connected to the wall behind him. The subsequent freedom of that beam, the swing Spike put into it, and its subsequent impact sent Envy's head to a twist as unnatural as himself. He rotated it back as he got a remark.

"Vampire 1, Homo 0."

"Now it's my turn," Hughes jumped into the scene, knives in hands.

"No, Uncle Hughes," Spike spoke simply, swatted his vampire 'uncle' away. Then he resumed batting Envy.

The onslaught hit every nerve in Envy's thoughts. Causing pain to lowly lifeforms was a pastime he enjoyed. Getting pain from lowly lifeforms was not. Was the death of a stupid little girl worth this challenge? A thought of Edward Elric and all doubt was destroyed. Rage gave his resolve. "Enough!" He grabbed the beam and separated it into a flurry of wood chips and splinters. "I will not fall to you filthy humans!"

His opponent was equally disturbed. "Oh for the bloody last time, I'm not a feckin' human! I'm a vampire!"

"Whatever," Envy smiled. "The Master will think…"

"'Scuse me, _Master_?" Spike interrupted the boast with a mocking tone. "You're somebody's flunky?"

"I'm no one's flunky!" the Homunculus hollered with saliva-spewing fangs. He punched Spike in the face. Its pain was obvious but insufficient.

"Oh sorry," Spike faked his apology, "Lackey!" He met Envy's fist. Still the bruised vampire responded with a chuckle. "Master's bitch!"

"You know nothing!" Envy wildly gave his smug declaration. "Entire civilizations of humanity were destroyed in my wake!" He shouted a smug declaration.

"Bullocks!" Spike looked dumbfounded at this achievement. "That's so…"

Envy grew prouder.

"Lame," Spike was to the point. "Since when is it so hard to do in a human? Have you ever fought gods, demons from other dimensions, slayers, vampires? No?" He surmised in a rising state of rage. "So, please understand why I'm not giving you the 'shaking in my boots' impression you desperately wanted to see to boost your self-esteem, dickless!"

Hot insanity grew in Envy like a cloth touched by a glowing poker. Didn't protect him from Spike kicking him away.

"You've gotta raise your standards."

* * *

Hughes recovered from that blow. He had been recovering a lot tonight. Didn't keep the healing from hurting like hell. Did the Homunculus suffer the same way? Good.

The optimism lasted for a second. Hughes' resolve had taken as much a beating. He always had been second best. In his living years, his skill with push-knives was masterful, but paled against people who can use swords, guns, auto-mail, and alchemy. As a vampire, he thought he got some leverage. Better survival from blade and bullets, greater speed and strength. But No! Here, he gets upstaged by blondie here!

Perhaps being lower wasn't such a bad goal, the vampire wondered on a dark thought that paralyzed him. The dark terrible face of Spike got first chair. Just think what that might mean! Not to mention his temptation to munch on Envy. Thoughts to a new destiny that he could reach burdened him immensely. And what did Spike mean by Uncle?

Hughes pressed against these troubling thoughts. The illness in character faded to a strong resolve. As a soldier and a Vampire he had failed. As a father he will not!

So Maes Hughes slowly came up the steps. He hadn't seen the others since Spike entered the fight. He found an empty hallway, with rooms just as barren. Where…Of course!

* * *

As the downstairs battle with Envy began, Cordelia stayed upstairs. So far, humankind was not faring so well as the mortal-impaired. She remembered Tara's words that this dimension made magic difficult to use. That spell she cast with Willow must have left them really exhausted. Well, so why couldn't this dimension do wonders on her vision-feelings?

But that was not the important thing right now (and sadly not the reckoning she had for Envy for his impression of her). If this Demon Battle Royale was going the way the previous ones went, Gracia and Elysia had to get out of this house immediately. That meant some major crutch-duty was required and fulfilled. So Cordelia, Dawn, and Lorne (who was almost out the back door when Cordelia stopped him) had the duty of spiriting away one adult, two teenagers, and a child. Cordelia pulled Gracia outside. Lorne, since he was a demon, struggled with Tara and Willow. Dawn had the easy job carrying Elysia.

Soon they were outside. "Do you think anyone will hear?" Cordelia asked in amazement at the quiet environment surrounding the house.

The window shattered. Everyone stilled, uncertain about defense. Fortunately, no one's head was popping out of the window. So the relatively safe caravan looked for a car.

They found it halfway on the lawn. Spike's stolen car evidently. Knowing him, the lack of keys was not a problem. A success confirmed when Cordelia heard the ignition.

"Great!" she snapped with joy.

The car backed away, breaking through the garage door in the process.

A figure charged in front. Scream time!

It was Hughes. He got into the car, close to widow and daughter. "Not going back in there," his reply was not a coward, but a protector.

"Fine," Cordelia was impatient. Once Dead Boy Jr. made his addition, Cordelia hit the pedals. The car careened out onto the road.

Dawn handed Hughes his shirt and coat. He didn't wear it, too busy being beside his sleeping wife and daughter. He looked back at the mess they left behind in his house.

"Don't worry, Maes." Dawn attempted some consolation from her front seat position. "Once Spike starts something, he won't finish until he's done."

"With exception to the gazillions times he flunked killing us." Cordelia spoke her mind, getting a scowl from Dawn.

But Hughes was not interested on Spike solving the problem. "I may be new to the monster thing, but won't he go out and kill somebody?"

"Envy's not our problem right now."

"I was talking about your friend Spike."

"Don't worry about that," Dawn's faith persevered. "He has some chip in the brain that gives him pain if he so much comes on to a human."

"Okay." Hughes rolled his eyes to the bizarre adventures of these people. At least he held Elysia in his arms again.

* * *

The sound of a car alerted Envy's lost senses. His realization was slowed by that creature's kick, but it came anyway. He ran to the window, slamming it open. A car was fast on the road.

_They escaped_. That meant something that Envy could not abide. His attention was no longer on this opponent, but on others. Ones who can't fight back.

"Where d' ya think you're going?" Spike ran forward. "There's no refund from the 'ass-kicking' health club!"

But Envy's direction could not be changed. He leapt out the window, with Spike following. However, Envy transformed into a raven. With a curse, Spike could not. He fell and hit the ground. All right physically, but disappointed. So the fight ended. "Pretty anti-climatic," Spike pressured for the humor, but the despair that still affected him. Guess he'll have to rejoin the gang with his...

_They took the bloody car!_

* * *

Driving to the hospital (the best idea right now), Cordelia looked to her ever-reliable sanctuary of humor. Nice carpool we have here! The living, the dead, the demons, and the witches, and whatever Dawn is supposed to be. From the look of it, Mrs. Hughes and her daughter were the only humans here (not forgetting herself, of course).

Hughes kept silent. Elysia lay upon his chest, a black coat wrapped upon her. His eyes twitched everywhere in near paranoia. No Homunculus would ever get near her again. He hated running away from Envy. But if that monster escaped, it didn't take much to know who his target will be.

"How far to the hospital?" Dawn asked.

"Eh?" Hughes' trance was broken. "Uh, a few more blocks."

They passed by a lane, and a lonely pedestrian.

Suddenly the car stopped, driver and shotgun-seater looking at each other. "Did I just see Xander?" Cordelia asked for confirmation.

The car made a reverse. Sure enough, the pedestrian looked like Xander.

"It could be Envy in disguise!" Hughes spoke with caution.

But Cordelia was unshaken. "No way he'd morph into Xander." There came no further second opinion, so the car pulled up to the boy.

"Cordy? Dawn?" Xander came to utter elation.

Hughes cringed. This man looked like Roy!

"Xander!" Dawn screamed. "We've just fought a shape-shifter."

Xander backed away. He raised his head upwards, bent his arms, pointing his hands left and right, and jigged. The Snoopy Dance did its work.

"Yep!" said Dawn with relief on this confirmed stance of Xander Harris. It also vanquished Hughes' fears. Roy would never do a crazy dance like that! Pity he had no camera.

Xander went into the back of the car, making himself fit. "Willow? Is she alright?"

"Yeah, it figures!" Cordelia rolled her eyes.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Xander defended himself. "This place has been tiring her out," explained Lorne.

So close to him, Hughes was amazed at this young man's resemblance. Pre-war Roy.

"You smell," Cordelia added the insult.

"Got out of Third Reich central through a garbage truck." Getting seated, Xander noticed the three new guests. "Hi! Cute kid!" Xander boyishly waved. "So who are they?"

Dawn was awkward in reply. "Uh, the Hughes family."

"Hughes?" Xander got concerned. "Are you guys okay?"

Dawn nodded uneasily. Hughes was perturbed.

"Spike's taking care of things."

"Oh," Xander morosely calmed to the plan of leaving the world-saving to _that_ guy. "Leave it to Brit boy to kick the ass out of that Hughes monster. Bet the freak's dust by now." He looked to his side, where the guest stared at him funny.

"Xander?" Cordelia's reply was calm, ready for the confirmation of his stupidity. "That freak's…"

"How did you know I was a vampire?" said the person in question.

"Well Angel told me he vamped this guy named Hughes..." Once realization hit, Xander's explanation too died out. There was suddenly a great amount of sudden face changes. A halt of breath struck all (with one going through the motions).

Xander directed all his confusion into anger. "Okay, did I miss a few episodes, or what?"

"Xander…"

"I mean, didn't we used to dust the dead boys? Now it's 'Join the Scoobies!'"

Cordelia gave fire to fire. "So how's your relationship with the vengeance demon?"

"Ex-vengeance demon."

"Going to variety now, eh?" Cordelia was just getting warmed up. "First was that giant mantis substitute teacher, then that Incan mummy girl…"

"Angel turned me into a vampire!?" Hughes shouted like a volcano that smoldered, boiled and erupted.

"Relax," Cordelia found the shit hit the fan.

"You knew?!"

"Well…only five hours ago," Cordelia attempted to save face.

"News to me…" Lorne tried to protect himself.

There came to all a struggle to suppress the chaotic incantation: _At least things can't get any worse._ But the essence was enough. A loud sound hit the roof, followed by two feet on the front fender.

"Sorry for leaving you in the lurch!" Envy gave his malevolent tone. "I'm back!"

Sure enough, the inside of the car made some screams, especially when the right front door came off. Envy now smiled before this cargo of future corpses. First was the insolent girl who hit him with a poker. His long hand grappled Dawn out of her seat and belts. Cordelia hit the brakes. The inhabitants above came tumbling off the hood into the pavement.

Dawn found she wasn't hurt much. Her eyes checked her new surroundings; right on top of Envy. One scream of horror later, she arose at record time, hoping vainly that her captor was not fast enough to grab her. Then came the surprise: Envy was not attempting to grab her. In fact, Envy didn't seem to be doing much action lying there. His face looked like something his victims might express. What's his problem? Dawn's eyes saw the necklace dangling over her shirt again.

"Dawn!" Hughes gently gave Elysia to Lorne, than ran like hell to Dawn's side, noting her bruises…the blood. He then saw Xander quickly pull the girl away. No fan of vampires, was he? But Hughes' bloodlust was tempered as he turned to Envy's strangely uncharacteristic stance.

Xander turned to Dawn. "Are you okay?"

"Better than our demon is," Dawn weathered the shock of her near-death. But she too studied how paralyzed Envy looked. Did he break his spine or something? Then she remembered Envy freezing before Spike chomped him. He also seemed easier to beat with her poker. "I think I might have something to do with it."

She got free and moved closer to the Homunculus, again ignoring the words of her elders. Envy's statuesque position was nothing to the painful shock on his face. "Impossible…" he squirmed.

Hughes too was beginning to follow Dawn's idea.

"Maybe it's my Key energies, or something in me," Dawn sprightly theorized. "Some kind of Anti-Ho-Monkey repellent."

"Or it could be that medallion," Xander pointed out.

"Oh…okay," Dawn was a little disappointed. She took off the medallion, lowering it closer to the demon. She got the right effect.

"So, the Ho-Monkey's got a weakness too!" Hughes grinned at the new advantage given to the gang.

All Envy could do was glare. "You think yourself clever?…Well, you're shit!…Humans shit!"

"I'm a vampire, you moron!" Hughes marched to his foe, growing in darkness, again bearing the same expression that briefly intimidated his opponent earlier. He pulled out a push-knife.

Its sharp message was clear to Envy. His gritted teeth grew tighter. His weakened hands flailed. Hughes' one hand grabbed and pinned them both. The struggle was faint. "What's matter? No more laughs? No transformations?"

"No…you wouldn't dare," Envy tried his remaining power of voice. "I will not die by an ant like you!"

"Nobody gets what they want," Hughes raised his knife. All eyes witnessed Maes Hughes get ready to pay his murderer back. Envy will pay for destroying his life, the lives of countless others, and threatening the precious people that remained. His assailant's monstrous face showed the enjoyment, as if it leeched off Envy's previous glee. The bully was now the terrified. Who was the bad guy again?

"You pathetic wimp!" Hughes growled, his eyes pointed with horrible intent. He plunged his knife. The blade stabbed the pavement beside Envy.

Xander was not happy. Not wanting to give Angel or Spike props, at least they killed with no problem. Lorne thought it a beautiful moment for a movie.

Cordelia got back into the car.

Hughes' face regained its humanity. But a victory or a defeat came uncertain by his haunted face. "You're…not worth it," Hughes cringed at his reluctance.

Envy's relief was momentary. He grew furious at not mercy but indifference.

The violence in Hughes smoldered into ash. "We were humans once, Envy." To maintain control of the situation, he amplified his dark threat. "You stay away from my family! Revenge won't protect you next time, but I'll protect Elysia."

"It won't be enough." Envy tried to threaten.

"It's more than your old man ever did for you."

Envy hissed and scowled. "I shall not be pitied!" Painfully he raised his arm, hands clawed to strike. There came no cowardice in his face now.

Even when Cordelia ran him over with the car. Envy came out like a rag doll. Then Cordelia put the car on reverse. Again, Envy ended up looking much worse coming out of the front of the car. A pause dominated his form. His shape became less solid, melting like some red goo.

Cordelia stuck her head out, glorious in her rage. "I got news for you, Envy, and don't you dare disintegrate before I'm finished! First: Don't fuck with Cordelia Chase: Second: _Don't fuck with Cordelia!_ Third: You really don't do me very well."

The creature was now nothing but red fluid.

"I'm not finished!" The woman firmly shrieked. Then she calmed down. "Actually, I am. Oh wait, I forgot. Get over your family issues!" She turned to see everyone looking at her. "What?" she cried.

Hughes looked at Envy's remains. So his murderer was destroyed, and not by his own hands. He was uncertain about his feelings about it.

Everyone got back into the car, which Cordelia drove over the remains of Envy again. This time came no stopping as the vehicle drove away from the major hit-and-run it committed. Still the area remained empty. Warmth burbled on the red fluid of philosopher stone. Disintegration reversed itself. The red blob regained its former shape, albeit crushed and wounded. Envy was whole again. He arose quickly. A sharp pain fell him to his knees. He struggled to be back on his feet, but as ever this was a Homunculus to be reckoned with. Unfortunately, he dealt with insects to reckon with too. A desire to traumatize Elysia Hughes for life had gone wrong. His attempts to change things to a massacre made things worse for him. So Elysia had a great father. So what?! This didn't change his life!

The anger pulled his strained muscles. The return to full strength will take a while. The stings of broken bones knitting together reinforced his target on the people who wronged him. Then shall come the retaliation.

* * *

It was a quiet drive toward the hospital. Nothing was said of Hughes' action, or to some, the stupidity of it.

"So…" Cordelia cried to break the mood. "So is that medallion some kinda Homunculus repellent? What is it anyway?"

Dawn treaded on dangerous ground. "Uh…my mother gave it to me before she died."

Hughes studied the medallion. That is, as best he could despite the apprehension its cross-shaped surroundings gave him. It appeared to possess a bone fragment. A bone. And Homunculus were failed-human transmutation…

Hughes' mind needled together all the knowledge he acquired. The answer came to the horrible consequences of Alchemy. The ramifications of what Roy almost did. Of the painful request he himself gave Roy. Of what Ed and Al succeeded in doing…

Dawn wavered on the right thing to say over her questioned 'ownership' of the medallion. Hope the necklace was a very obscure item at the Magic Shop!

Not so, said Xander's keen eyes. Anya told him about this medallion. She said it had the bone fragment of some dead guy whose father she once met. Hoho something. One of those poor schmucks who broke a girl's heart…

But he said nothing. He'll let this slide for Dawn's sake.

Finally, the car made a stop.

"Wait!" Cordelia stopped the car. She turned to Hughes. "You and Lorne."

"Me too," Xander said. "I'm probably Public Enemy No.1." Human and Pylean got out slower than the reality-struck vampire. Hughes felt like lead. But he opened the door, cradling Elysia out of the car. He handed her back to the car seat. He let go in what seemed a slow and eternal struggle. His sight never failed on his sleeping wife and child as they rejoined the group. His eyes did not waver as the car drove away.

"Them's the breaks," Lorne spoke as easily as possible. He got Hughes' attention, a serious expression that expected no nonsense whatsoever. It gave Lorne a great deal of sweat. Was Hughes going to kill him again?

"Cut the crap," Hughes took a colder tone. "You saw Envy's mind. What's his game?"

To Be Continued


End file.
